


It shouldn't hurt (And...)

by 2W_NikiAngel



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, But not too graphic I think, Enjolras Has Feelings, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Getting Together, Heartbreak, M/M, Not Beta Read, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Pining Enjolras, Pining Grantaire, Pregnancy, Wedding Fluff, birth scene, slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21719425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2W_NikiAngel/pseuds/2W_NikiAngel
Summary: "So tell me," Grantaire said with soft voice. "How long you have a crush on Feuilly?""I don't ha-""How long you feel the way you feel towards him?"Enjolras had think about it.[Český originální text/Czech original]
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Feuilly/Original Female Character, one-sided Enjolras/Feuilly
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52





	It shouldn't hurt (And...)

**Author's Note:**

> From a short story about what it's like to love someone who has no idea about it; to a little long story about how to get help from a person you don't expect at all, and eventually find that he know exactly how you feel, because he too have a crush (oh, drama!). And that's how you can finally work with your emotions and work normally. Well, let's say I didn't expect it, but I'm actually happy about the result.  
> I finished this fanfic a month ago, but again, the English translation took too much of my time. And I'm still not 100% satisfied with. If anyone was interested in helping me check my attempts at an English translation, I would definitely not be angry.  
> I wish you a pleasant reading.

_ (It shouldn't hurt—) _

“Wow,” Courfeyrac said and quickly swallowed the last piece of cake. "What happened to you?" Enjolras tossed his backpack to the table where his two best friends were sitting, sit down with a loud thud, sighed loudly and tilted his head. He ran his hands through his restless hair and grunted. Courfeyrac and Combeferre exchanged worried glances. “Are you okay?” Courfeyrac asked him and gentle stroked his thing. “You smell like a baby ass,” Courfeyrac laughed, tried to make Enjolras smile a little.

Enjolras finally opened his eyes, crossed his arms and shook his head. Combeferre pushed his glass of water towards him and Enjolras quietly accepted it. He drank a good half of it and say quietly: “I have a pretty bad day.”

“That happens to everyone, honey,” Courfeyrac said kindly and stroked his things few times. “Do you need something to eat or drink?” Enjolras just shook his head again. “Some time for yourself?”

“Please.” Courfeyrac and Combeferre started talking again about some new, theatrical performance they saw last week. Enjolras tried listen to them, tried to think of something positive, but this day made him so angry, he can’t even think about something else.

Even when he went early to bed last night, he had a strange idea that something was going to happen. His stomach tightened, he couldn't sleep, his chest burned a little. He kept thinking about his friends. As if he suspected something bad to happen. When it had been a good two hours, he decided to write each one a short message. He couldn't admit he was worried about them, and at the mention of a "bad idea", Jehan would certainly question him for another week, try to arrange a session with a successful fortune teller, and still ask him about his dreams so he could read them. Everyone would make fun of him. He couldn't let that happen.

He wrote to each of them simply  _ “I need to complete a few copies for next demonstration. Do you have time?" _ . Within half an hour he had a message from everyone. Even Grantaire tried, apparently in a very drunk state, write that he had no time. But the feeling still didn’t disappear. He made a jasmine tea, wrap himself in a blanket, turned on the television and by four in the morning fell asleep exhausted.

He woke up before ten in the morning. His back ached and his head was pounding. He poured the remant of his tea over his shirt and his skin under the shirt was itching and burning. He had to bathe and pour a baby oil that he hated so much, all over himself, because that was the only thing that could calm his sensitive skin. He changed into cotton, black T-shirt and dark trousers. His hair was stinking in all directions. After half and hour he decided to leave them be and go to school.

He arrived at school before lunch. A criminal law professor told him that he would have to work for missed lessons with a presentation in front of the whole class. A sociology professor informed him that he would have to replace his lectures on another day. He missed an unannounced test with the most annoying professor of French history, who immediately assessed him inadequate and refused to arrange a repair with him. Defeated, he went to the canteen, ordered a soup, where a fly was swimming, poured it into the sink, and decided that he would rather go home.

His feet had taken him to the Musain café, and when he looked at the clock, he found that he was here an hour before the boys even started to meet at their regular meetings. He shook his head and walked into the café, where he had seen his two friends from afar.

This day was definitely not Enjolras' best.

“Enjolras, are you all right?” Enjolras looked at Jehan, who looked at him a little worried. “You're terribly pale, I mean, paler than normal,” the young man said, pulling a chair to him. “And do I see well, you have a rash?”

“Rash?” Enjolras just sighed. He looked at Joly, who was just taking his backpack off his back and frowning a little. According to the odor of the disinfection that was around him, he probably went there straight from medical practice. “You're sick?” 

“Just bad reaction to soap,” Enjolras lied. He didn’t want to told them the story about his poured tea. If Grantaire had heard it, he would begun to make fun of it right away. He looked around the room and found that the brunette wasn’t there. His chest tighted again. Maybe— “And what did you mean when you said I look bad?” Enjolras asked Jehan, who was still looking at him. He needed to get rid of the nasty pressure on his chest as quick as possible. It annoyed him.

“Wait, I didn’t say that,” Jehan said gently and smiled. “It’s just strange to see you in black. You don’t wear it. I guess I know why now, you look even paler in it.”

“Thanks,” Enjolras said, exhaling annoyedly. “Bad day,” he said as he noticed Jehan frown at him a little.

“Oh, I know that pretty well,” Jehan said and stroked Enjolras’ shoulder gently. “I get better every time after really good latté and cinnamon rolls. You want some?”

“No, but thanks.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Jehan tried to convince him, but Enjolras just shook his head again. “Okay, I’ll let you breathe.” With a smile he went to bar and make a order. Enjolras looked around the café and noticed that Bahorel, Bossuet, Feuilly and Grantaire were missing. Bahorel was at his parents house for two weeks to help them on their fields. Bossuet sprained his ankle in cricket play last week and Musichetta took care of him at home. Feuilly was working overtime for good two weeks. But where was Grantaire?

Enjolras chest tightened again. He didn’t like that. He tapped his foot a few times on the floor and rose from his seat. “What if we started today?” He leaned on the table and look at everyone. “Bahorel and Bossuet apologized last time. Grantaire?”

“He have some session with his classmates about some school show,” Joly said, raising his hand like in the school, chewing on a food. The pressure on Enjolras’s chest eased a little.

“Good. And Feuilly is still in the work?”

“I’m here!” Shouted a redheaded man in the door and quickly made it to his group of friends. The moment Enjolras saw him, he gently smiled at him and quietly greeted him. Enjolras felt how his heart missed few beats. He cleared his throat quickly, trying not to think about how gorgeous Feuilly’s hair is, how sparkly his eyes seemed today, how new freckled apeared around his lips, how good he looked in the yellow coat, how wonderfully he smelled. Like burnt wood and sunflowers, his favorite cologne. He got it last Christmast from— “Sorry, we have some trouble on the way.” Feuilly turned a little to the right. Right behind him stood beautiful, smaller brunette girl with big brown eyes, gorgeous caramel skin, in tight blue knit dress and brown coat around her shoulders.

Patricia. Feuilly’s girlfriend. “Hi,” she said in her cute, girlish voice. Everyone greeted her. They known her for three years now. When Feuilly brought her to the meeting for the first time, it was terrible fuss about it. They all sat down at one table, asked them how long they had been together, how they met, and what they were planning for the future. Bahorel almost fainted when Patricia admitted that she and Feuilly know each other since childhood and had been dating for six months already. Enjolras left that day strangely early.

“Good to see you again,” Enjolras said as Patricia looked at him. She was always nice to him. Enjolras tried to like her, but something about her bothered him. He didn’t know what. “We haven’t seen each other for a long time.”

“I was pretty busy, actually. Too much wedding this year,” she said wearily, tossing her long hair. Only now Enjolras noticed that her hands were in leather gloves. It wasn’t so cold anymore. It seemed what she was hiding her fingers pierced from needles. Feuilly never forgotten tell how much he was proud of her sewing work.

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras tried to react to make a little impression on her. He really wanted to like her. He really wanted to feel as good with her as his friends. He really wanted to fall for her amazing eyes. Why it didn’t work?

“Don’t be,” she said with a big smile. “I love my job.”

“Exactly like I love you,” Feuilly said as he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek. She laughed, closed her eyes and her cheeks flushed red. Enjolras turned his head to the table for a moment, focused his gaze on the glass of water, and drank it quickly. “Everything’s alright Enjolras?” Enjolras turned to look at Feuilly, who was looking at him with interest. “The last time I saw you in black was when Macron won the presidential election. Something happened?”

“Bad day.” He felt like he said it a million times today.

“Then I could make it better for you,” Feuilly said with sincere joy and smiled broadly. Enjolras didnt wanted to think. He hated his brain doing what it wanted and inventing things that would never happen. For example, how he and Feuilly will have dinner in an old, cheap restaurant and talk about tax regulation. Enjolras ordering a chocolate cake for Feuilly to surprise him at work and eat it together on the sidewalk outside. Maybe how he and Feuilly would be walking along the waterfront at night, watching the stars and listening to the noise of the Seine. “I have big surprise friends.” Enjolras finally blinked and cleared his throat. “You're not all here, but I can't wait anymore. Bahorel already knows it, but I miss Bossuet and Grantaire, I would like to see their expressions, but at least I can said it without worry about some sarcastic comments.”

“What it it?” Joly asked eagerly.

Feuilly smiled a little more, he looked at Patricia a touch her hand. “We’re engaged.” With this he yanked left glove of Patricia’s hand and showed them beautiful, gold ring with small, red stone. Joly opened his mouth in shock, Courfeyrac had happy tears in his eyes already, Jehan jumped to his feet and clapped his hands for few times, Combeferre was already in front of them and started to congrants them. Feuilly and Patricia were smiling so hard.

And Enjolras just stood there. He looked at them. He felt that he forgot how to breathe for a moment. He swallowed and tried to say something. His hands and foots were shaking. He inadvertently dropped an empty glass that immediately shattered on the ground. Everyone looked in his direction. Enjolras blinked for few times and took a quick breath. “Jesus, I’m sorry.” With this he knelt on the ground and started to collet all shards.

“God, don’t to it. You’ll cut yourself,” Combeferre said with worry in his voice and knelt right next to his friend. He touched his hands. They were shaking, cold, sweaty. Combeferre frowned a little and looked at Enjolras, who was looking at the ground. “Please, miss,” he called to the waitress who was already approaching them with a broomstick. Combeferre smiled at her and stood up.

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras said, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants.

“That happens, sir,” she said, sweeping away the shards carefully. “We’re ready for this kind of situation. It’s nothing. Do you need something?” she asked as they both rose from the grounds. He just shook his head and the waitress left.

“Is that such a shock?” Feuilly laughed, scratching his neck. He did that when he’s nervous. Enjolras didn’t like that. He told them the news with such enthusiasm—

“No, really, an accident,” he said, little puzzled. He looked at the others and added: “I guess I’ll go. Sorry, it’s really bad with me today.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Feuilly said, smiling heartily at him. “This will help you, I think.” With that, he opened his arms and before Enjolras could say anything, Feuilly was already embracing him. He pressed firmly against his chest. Enjolras sucked in his cologne and buried his nose in his shoulders. He put his arms around his waist and tried not to look at Patricia. How envious he was at that moment. That she could embrace him every day, smell his scent, enjoy his warmth. God, how hot he was. His hair tickled his cheek. He swallowed dry again. Feuilly patted him on the back a few times and finally pulled away from him. He smiled at him broadly and raised an eyebrow. “Better?”

“Better,” Enjolras said with a slight smile. He quickly pulled away from the redhead and looked at the two fiancés. “Congratulations. Celebrate it, drink, or whatever.” Patricia carefully patted Enjolras’ biceps. Enjolras looked at her with a cold, slightly hurt look.

“Thank you,” she said. Her voice sounded strangely sad. “Take a rest.”

“He and rest? Dont make me laugh,” Courfeyrac said, handing him the backpack he completely forget about . “Don't you want me to come with you?”

“I'm not sick,” Enjolras said immediately, moving slowly toward the door. “Put your first round on me.” With that, he took some money from his pocket and put it on the waitress tray. He waved goodbye to all his friends and left the café.

As soon as he came around the corner, he had to lean against the cold wall and take a few deep breaths. His mouth was dry, his ears whistled, his heart pounded, his legs trembled, his hands sweated. The pressure in his chest was incredibly strong. He didn't understand what was going on. Was that his forerunner? Why he couldn't sleep at night? Could he suspect it? “No,” Enjolras said to himself, sitting down. He needed a moment to himself. Memories of last week appeared before him. He and Feuilly stayed in Musain until close. They talked about school and work first. Soon, however, they began to get bored with these topics and talked about favorite video games, series, tackled conspiracy theories, and even played some sketches on the Internet. They laughed, ate salty pastries, and they had wine. Enjolras never had much endurance, and after a second glass his head began to spin. Feuilly escorted Enjolras to the door of the house, and before they could say goodbye, he asked,  _ “Do you think I could be a good husband?” _ Enjolras looked at him with the greatest admiration he could.  _ “You? You will be a great husband and father.” _ Feuilly thanked him then.

Enjolras felt his throat tightened. Perhaps he bring him to the idea of getting engaged?

“Apollo?” Enjolras looked at the payment where Grantaire stood in his scratched jeans, leather jacket, beanie on his head and with cigarette in his mouth. “Why are you lying on the ground?”

Enjolras stood quickly, swept away all the dusk from his clothes and swallowed. “All of them are already waiting for you.”

“I was in little shock when I saw a fallen God on the ground, so I needed to stop for a moment,” Grantaire laughed, but Enjolras could saw from his eyes how much he’s browsing him. “Something’s happening?”

“It so much obvious?” Enjolras asked and frowned a little. He didn’t like the idea that everyone could know that something is happening with him. He was angrier because everyone still asked him about it. He just wanted to go home, wrap himself in blanket, looked at television, sleep for a ten hours and forget about today. Maybe next day he would be okay. He will made a pankaces for breakfast, sing in shower, get new haircut. But now it everyone will made still a fuss about his feelings. He had more bad mood after all the questions.

“Well, a little,” Grantaire said atypically serious.

“I had a bad day.”

“I have it everyday,” he laughed and just waved his hand. “I don’t really remember I ever had a good day. So, don’t be sad about it.”

“I’m not,” Enjolras said with a strong and little angry voice.

Grantaire noticed and just smiled a little. “Boys asked about it already, right?”

“Not much,” Enjolras said and closed his eyes. He felt so tired. “They too busy talking about Feully’s and Patricia’s engagement.” Enjolras opened his eyes and looked at Grantaire. He opened his mouth a little a blinked few times. “Oh, dammit, they wanted to tell you by themself,” Enjolras said and stroked his hair. They were more tangled than in the morning. “I’m sorry, seriously. Do like I never said anything. Made fun of it, tell some stupid joke about the first night and get drunk with them. I… I don’t feel well, I had some bad sleep and everything were… I’ll go home.”

Grantaire tossed cigarette to the ground and stepped on it. Enjolras wanted to tell him that just few meters from them is bin with an ashtray, but Grantaire shoved his hands inside his pockets and asked him quickly: “Right on the corner, there’s a little bakery owned by madam Laufet. Have you ever been there?”

“No,” Enjolras said and shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”

“It’s not for a hunger, but for a sweet tooth,” Grantaire said and put a chewing gum in his mouth. Enjolras was glad for it. He hated smell of cigarettes. “Can you say no to lemon cookies?”

That get a little of Enjolras’s attention. “Did you say lemon?”

“Come with me, Apollo,” Grantaire said, pointing beyond the end of the street where the shop was supposed to be. “Now the guys are just going to talk about what a bachelor party should look like, and with the  _ girls _ , I mean, with Jehan and Courfeyrac, and maybe Joly, have you noticed that he's been quite hypersensitive lately? He should stop using Musichette's creams, surely there is some estrogen in them. Anyway, they will talk about what they will wear, what kind of music could play on the wedding, what to do before the wedding and ask both of them if they already have it planned. I believe Jehan will show his ultimate secret folder on Pinterest where he hides all ideas for his wedding. What if, right? I wish the boy some love, but I think if he ever gets married, even I will have a chance.” With that they reached the end of the street, Grantaire paused in front of the entrance and pointed to the park benches. "Sit down, Apollo, I'll buy us something." 

Before Enjolras could protest, Grantaire went inside the shop. He heard a loud, woman více greeting him and some wet noises, probably kisses on the cheeks. One of the few things he knew about a brunette was that he loved sweets. He knowed the best shops all over Paris. When he sat down on the bench, he thought that probably Feuilly and Patricia will ask him where to get the best pastries and cookies for the wedding. They'll eat the same thing they're going to taste right now. His stomach growled and his throat tightened again.

"Wow, good that I'm already here." Grantaire appeared next to Enjolras and handed him a tray of two lemon tarts decorated with strawberries, blueberries and slice of orange. "Your stomach it's heard all the way to the Seine." Enjolras took the tray from him, thanked him softly, and bit into the first tart. He almost grunted in bliss. "Great, huh?" Enjolras just nodded. "Well, I'm not going to ask you what happened that even someone from Olympus can look like a broken mortal—" Enjolras gave Grantaire one of his annoyed looks. “—But I ask you this - Feuilly and wedding? Seriously? I wouldn't expect someone get married before Marius… Was he there? Marius?" 

"No." Enjolras only now realized that he had completely forgot about him.

“Good. Otherwise, I would leave you there alone, because see the face of the freckled idiot with somebody telling him that someone will be getting married sooner than him. That would be worth it! Good thing is I can get the camera ready for it and have it documented in an emergency.” Grantaire finally bit into something that looked like a blueberry tube covered with chocolate. He groaned blissfully and swallowed. Enjolras had noticed, since he knew him, that he ate very fast. "Feuilly's engagement was probably the last drop today, wasn't it?"

"Why should it be?" Enjolras asked, trying to sound over the thing as much as possible.

“It just occurred to me. You know what, when you're really bad, all the good news is suddenly kicking your ass. The better, the harder. Like, you like them and everything, but in that day it just pisses you off. I'll admit it. When I have a really shitty day, I can't see Jollly and Eagle. Because it would just make me angry and depressed.” Enjolras studied him all the time. His openness was not strange to him, but most of the time he simply let out the heap of things he could say in one breath. But that made a lot of sense.

The pressure on his chest that nearly choked him when Feuilly announced his engagement was just a bad combination of irritability and a bad day. Perhaps the next day he would be happy to ask Feuilly about the details of his engagement. "Maybe," Enjolras said, biting into the tart again. Sweets helped him a little. It wrapped the nerves and relaxed the chest pressure.

Grantaire smiled at him. The he spoke and occasionally cursed about something, that Enjolras didn't notice much. Still, his presence was pleasant. The feeling that he was not expected to be talking about himself relaxed him. He also appreciated that Grantaire lit a cigarette only when they said goodbye and the black haired man went to Musain.

Enjolras came home in a slightly better mood. He was breathing easier. The rash on the skin was still itchy, but almost gone. As soon as he took a shower, he went to bed immediately. Although he didn't do much, he felt endlessly exhausted. Mainly mentally. He needed to oversleep it all.

_ (—And it still hurt.) _

  * ● ● ● ● ● ●



_ (It shouldn't hurt—) _

The next day wasn't much better. This time Enjolras did sleep, he was successful at school, he passed all the tests. But he had no appetite, his knees were shaking, and he still felt he wanted to run away from something. There was still annoying press against his chest. "That engagement last night wasn't enough?" He asked himself, clearing his throat. He had to do it every time the chest pressure was unbearable. At five in the afternoon, he was sitting at his usual table in Musain, trying to read a book he had been reading for several weeks. But it lays opened before him. Enjolras didn't perceive anything that was written on the paper. He kept his eyes on his friends sitting at the next table. Feuilly sat in the middle, staring frightenedly at all his friends, trying to prosecute all the questions they were spewing at him. His engagement seemed to be still a hot topic.

Enjolras initially tried to engage with a faint  _ "when do you plan to get married?" _ When his heart pounded so hard. He couldn't talk about it yet. His brain seemed still unable to process it. Everyone knew that romance and relationships weren't his favorite topic for discussion, so nobody even bothered to sit down and talk about it with him. With every further outburst of laughter, a note of the wedding night or names and the number of children they plan to have together; he had to press the hinges a little more so he wouldn't sigh loudly. Not annoyed. Not bored. But hurt. He was hurt every minute. He could feel it in every corner of his body. He tried, really tried, but he knew it would be a long time before he could be really happy for his friend.

Enjolras chuckled.  _ Friend _ .

"Damn, I though they won't ever let mě breathe." Feuilly's voice pulled Enjolras from his thoughts. He finally looked away from the book and looked ahead. Feuilly sat across from him and drank a glass of water. He looked desperate. "I didn't know what I'd do if I told them about the engagement."

“They're just happy. For you.” Enjolras heard how rude his voice sounded. "We all."

"Of course, that pleases me," Feuilly said honestly, and looked at a group of friends who suddenly began to talk about a musical number that must surely show up at the wedding as a midnight surprise. "But sometimes I feel like you're more of a reincarnation of my mothers and fathers." He looked at Enjolras, who had an unreadable look in his eyes. "You left quite early yesterday."

“Bad day. I said it, I think. ”Enjolras closed the book and put it back in his backpack.

"It wasn't because of what I said, right?" Enjolras looked at Feuilly, who immediately added, "The engagement."

Enjolras swallowed dry. "Why do you think so?"

“You looked… so… shocked? When I said it. As if it was the most weird thing I could tell you. Don't you think— ”

"Feuilly," Enjolras said solemnly and quickly extended his hand to Feuilly. He stroked the back of his hand and stroked his rough skin with his fingers. He didn't understand where he find the strength to touch him. But he didn't regret it at all. He felt as if he was touching hot stones. His skin didn't burn, but warmed him beautifully. Enjolras felt his desire to kiss his hand. “You will be a great husband. Great father. I think I've told you before, and I don't mind repeating it as many times as you need to hear. I know it. You have an amazing heart. You're sensible. I believe you are doing the right thing.” He gripped him tightly. "Patricia is lucky to have you."

"I'm lucky that I find her," Feuilly said immediately, putting his other hand on their interconnected hands. “And I am very glad for what you said now. " Feuilly looked deeply into Enjolras' eyes and smiled broadly. Enjolras had no idea if he had ever looked at Feuilly's eyes for so long. He always though they were blue. But there was also something green and glowing yellow in them. They were fascinating. "Friends," Feuilly said loud enough to get attention from all their friends at the next table. But he still looked at Enjolras. "I have something to tell you." Feuilly squeezed their interconnected hands even more. Enjolras's heart missed one pound. "Enjolras, will you be my bestman?"

And now it stopped. Enjolras stared at the older one. He smiled sincerely at him and held him tight. Enjolras felt that all his blood had frozen in his veins. Did Feuilly really ask him if--

"That's not fair!" Yelled Courfeyrac, pouting. "We know each other longer!"

"Yes," Feuilly said seriously, finally looking at his friends. “But you know I have more common with Enjolras." He just chuckled and then sweetly added, "Besides, he helped me when life tried to put me down. He always help me. I will never forget when I lived with him. I'll never forget what he did for me.” He looked back at Enjolras. "It's little thank for what do you mean to me."

_ What do you mean to me _ . Enjolras's heart finally pounded again. He cleared his throat and smiled quickly. Convulsively, but he knew it was required of him. He must show that he is happy about it. Must. “Sure, Feuilly… Thank you — thank you for believing me. That I can do it for you. You know, its honor to be your bestman." Feuilly smiled broadly at him and finally released his hand. Enjolras's palm fell on the table. It was like stone.

"Thank you," Feuilly said, sitting down again on the table with their friends, whos had begun to convince him that everyone else would certainly be a better choice. "Enjolras certainly won't mention anything about politics in his speech," Feuilly protested at Courfeyrac's comment and nudged him in the shoulder.

Speech. He has to make a speech. He must talk about how much grateful he is be on Feuilly's and Patricia's wedding. He must talk about love. He must talk about relationships. He must wish them the best.

Enjolras quickly packed all his things, put his coat on, hoping to say at least quietly  _ goodbye _ and left Musain as quickly as he could. He needed fresh air. He needed to clean his mind. He was sick of his stomach. His hands were trembling, his feets shaking, his heart pounding. He wanted to get drunk. He never drank. He hated the taste of alcohol. But now he wanted it. He wanted to think of the disgusting taste of whiskey.

He took a few deep breaths of cold air and lowered his head. His chin almost touched his chest. He was trembling. "What the hell is that?" He asked himself.

"Are you okay?" Enjolras looked behind him, where Grantaire stood, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He put one between his lips, but he didn't light it. “Well, that's how he say it to you, really great. I guess I'd refuse him like this,” Grantaire laughed. He paused for a moment and looked at Enjolras. His voice sounded strangely sad. "Are you okay?"

"You already asked," Enjolras said exasperated, looking somewhere into the spring night. "I'm fine. Just another bad day. Like yesterday."

"Um," Grantaire muttered, pointing his finger to the street to the left of them. “Don't you want to go for a drink? Corinth, perhaps? They have really good wine. I invite you."

"I owe you for sweets from yesterday already," Enjolras recalled yesterday and their silent snack on the bench. He still felt good about it. The idea that he would finally stop his chest pain again, and at least for a moment he could think about something else than Feuilly, attracted him. "Then let me pay you one glass."

"Bottle."

"Deal."

So they both settled in Corinth at the bar, ordered two glasses of wines and listened to gentle jazz. "This was a really nasty bar before," Grantaire began as he swallowed the first pint of wine and grunted in delight. “I used to come here to play dominoes, poker, cards. Everything you could get cheap money fast. Then a few trouble happened, they closed it and  _ voila _ , today it is quite a good bar. Not very familiar, but it's nice I guest." Finally, he looked at Enjolras, put the unlit cigarette beside a wineglass and watched as the younger sipped. He frowned and grunted. "Aren't you used to drinking too much?"

"I have no reason to drink," he said dryly, looking at Grantaire, who was looking at him with interest. "What?"

“Just that… you know what. Feuilly.” Only his name made Enjolras sigh. He took a glass of wine in his hand and drank it all in one gulp. His throat burned and his stomach protested. The wine almost returned to his throat, but Enjolras overcame him. "Ugh," he whispered rather to himself, wiping his lips with a few more drops left. "How can you still drink it?"

"I don't drink it like a madman," Grantaira said, laughing. “Wine must be enjoyed. You've shown a nice example of how to drink from a navel to a dormitory party." With that he drank again and looked at the bar. "Enjolras, I know that ...  _ fuck _ ," he whispered to himself, taking another sip. The wine gave him some courage. “I know you don't want to talk about it. With nobody. And certainly not with me. But believe me in one thing. At least one. If you get it from yourself, you admit it, you'll feel better. It'll fall off you." He glanced at Enjolras. He looked at him, blinking, frowning a little. "You know very well what I'm talking about."

"I'm not very sure if it is."

"Feuilly." Enjolras's face twisted again into a painful grimace, and Grantaire just chuckled. "I knew it."

Enjolras was about to ask  _ What? _ But he knew he didn't want to hear the answer. Instead he started playing with an empty glass. "It's so obvious?"

"Oh, my God, no," Grantaire said laughing as he looked at his wine. “You are the same marble statue as ever. Sometimes I really have a problem finding out what you think. I think if you were playing chess or another classy game, you would be really unbeatable. No one would absolutely know what you want to do. You have a very neutral face, said in nice way." With that, he drank and signaled the bartender to refill both of them. “Like, there's a chance that Combeferre knows. You two are neither family nor brothers. You are like twins, Siamese twins. You know everything about each other. I don't think he's stupid to tell you that you have a crush. ”

"I don't have a crush," Enjolras protested, hoping the bartender couldn't hear them. "I — I don't even know," he said, slightly defeated. "But-"

“You don't have to explain it to me, Apollo. And certainly not anyone else. And I'm stupid enough to tell you that I know exactly how you feel.” Enjolras looked at Grantaire, who was smiling slightly at him. "Exactly."

"Are you in love?"

Grantaire did not even pause over the word _ "in love" _ . He just smiled wide and threw an edge, a hurt grimace. “For so long that I don't even know when I wasn't. That's why I know. I know what a person does when he is so fucked up with those feelings. And maybe doesn't even want to admit it. Look at me. I didn't wanted to admit it long enough and believe me, I'm still fighting all the forces I have on hand. It wasn't working, so I started smoking. Like, now it sounds like I'm getting you started on drugs or something. Jesus — Jesus, God, just now I understand why you don't want me to talk on demonstrations. I'm sure to screw it up and send all to a brothel.” With that Enjolras laughed. Grantaire smiled at his laugh and tapped his foot happily. "Tell me," he said in a soft voice. "How long have you crush on Feuilly?"

"I don't h—"

"How long have you feel what you have been feeling with Feuilly?"

Enjolras had to think. “I know it wasn't from the beginning. All I know is that I had a good feeling from the beginning about him. Such as the warm of chest.” Enjolras tapped his heart and found it a little calm. "Nothing that makes my heart pound, make me blush or write his name in his diary." Grantaire chuckled and drank. He immediately ordered another wine. “It was just pleasant. Whenever I was with him, we were talking somehow naturally. It was fine. I liked it." Grantaire grunted and poured himself half another glass. If Enjolras were more careful he would know that— “Then, after about half a year, we went out together for the first time. Just two of us. We went to the theater. At an amateur performance of amateur theater. It was a tragicomedy about European history and I must say that I remember absolutely everything from it. We talked about it for a good two hours. We bought a pizza and sat on the swings in the playground. We ate there, had fun, laughed. Then he offered to accompany me home. I guess it seemed gallant, so I agreed. He accompanied me, we said goodbye, I went home. Nothing more. It wasn't a date, but I felt like it was." Grantaire just nodded. “I was good, I took a shower, made a tea. I was tired, but somehow pleasant. I wanted to sleep, but it wasn't like  _ I got to get to bed because I wake up in the morning _ , but more like  _ I had an amazing day and now I want to sleep and wake up to the same great _ . Everything was fine until Feuilly wrote me. He just let me know he was home. He wished me good night. ”Enjolras pulled his cell phone from his pocket and opened his messages with Feuilly. There were many, but Enjolras couldn't erase any of them. He showed Grantaire the one he was just talking about. In addition to the text there was also an emoticon of the heart. “I believe it meant nothing. I know it meant nothing. But at that moment my heart pounded so badly that I thought I might have a heart attack. I was scared and couldn't sleep. I woke Combeferre because my head was wobbling. We talked for less than two minutes and immediately asked me —  _ And, couldn't it be possible that you fell in love? _ —And boom — it was here. Someone named it. ”

"So Combeferre knows."

"No," Enjolras said, trying to drink the wine again. He didn't like it after another attempt. “He knows I feel something about someone. But he doesn't know who it is. ”He gently swept his finger over the edge of the glass. "It is bad?"

"No," Grantaire said immediately, handing him his cell phone. "It is up to you to tell anyone."

"Sorry," Enjolras said suddenly, looking just as Feuilly had asked if he would be his bestman. Terrified. “I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have confided. It is-"

"Relax," Grantaire said immediately, grabbing Enjolras's shoulder. He felt shaking slightly. He was a little frightened of how easily his feelings played with him. Enjolras has always been strong. He had never seen him like this before. "Everybody needs to confide sometimes."

"I know, but you—" Enjolras bit his lip. "—Hell."

"No, it's okay, actually I'm pretty surprised you didn't send me to hell when I touched you," Grantaire laughed, preferring to pull his hand away. “I told you I was the same. I know if I talked anything, the guys would kill me. It's drilling in private." With that, he drank and waved at the bartender again. She decided to put the whole bottle in front of Grantaire. "And you could pull me right now, too, and I'm sure they want to get out of me."

"And who is it?"

"I won't say," Grantaire said in almost childish voice.

"Why not?" Enjolras asked a little curiously. "You know about me."

"Because I guessed it," Grantaire said mysteriously. "You can guess too."

"Is it someone I know?"

"I don't like this game," Grantaire said with a pout, and Enjolras laughed again. “It's about you today, Apollo. Look, I'm always talking about my fucking feelings and shitty life. We know less about you than about aliens. When you need to talk, talk. I'll be a willow. You know I won't say anything and I know you won't say anything about me again. It's fair. ”

"That's it," Enjolras said, taking another sip. The wine still tasted bitter, but finally it was a little warm. "What if we let it be for now?"

"Don't you want to talk about it anymore?"

"No."

"You already say everything you wanted, for now?"

"Yes," Enjolras said truthfully. Finally, he could breathe freely, and his chest no longer burned. "I'm better."

"Great, if you ever need it again, tell me," Grantaire said, dropping off the bar stool. He took the bottle and tapped Enjolras on the shoulder. “I'll let you meditate, Apollo." With that, he went to the very end of the bar, sprawled on one of the sofas, pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, and started tapping something on it. Enjolras finished his wine, signaled the bartender that he wanted to pay, and left.

The cold air of the spring evening was no longer splitting it, but it was pleasantly cooling.

When he got home, he realized he hadn't even said goodbye to Grantaire. He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket to at least write to Grantaire and thank him… he didn't even know why. He had no idea what to call him finally feeling good. Though the wine burned in his throat and stomach, it was not unpleasant. He could feel the corners of his mouth rising a little. He had a better if not good mood.

_ Thanks to you, I'm finally in a good mood. _

Too honest.

_ Thank you for tonight _ .

That sounds a little strange.

_ I don't think of Feuilly anymore. _

Lie.

_ Who is the one you are in love with? _

Grantaire hadn't told him before, certainly not now.

_ The bottle of wine was quite expensive. You want to make up for me? We could go to the cinema, this time you pay. _

Enjolras frowned. Didn't it sound a bit like an invitation to a date?

Before he could freak out at what he even thought, his phone beeped. Message from Grantaire.

_ Apollo, I hope you came home and didn't fight a cop, or you didn't take a homeless home. Neither would be the first time. :P Look, it was pretty comfortable. The chat. How honest we were to each other. We can't talk in the meetings together, but what about chatting with wine or good food sometimes when we need it? I think I'll be more helpful to you now than a busy glasses man and a depressed dramaqueen. _

Enjolras laughed heartily at the nicknames of his two friends. It is true that since Combeferre gained practice at the children's ward in the hospital, he had hardly seen him. They had seen each other in Musain at least once a week, but only for an hour. He enjoyed the work, but he could see that he needed a break. He had increasingly large circles under his eyes. Whenever there was a chance, Enjolras spoke to Combeferre and made him go to sleep and leave the meeting. Combeferre thanked him quietly. Courfeyrac, on the other hand, hadn't talked about anything other than a theatrical performance of their amateur theater for two weeks, where he wasn't cast in the lead role. Courfeyrac was not used to not shine. Whether in life or on stage. He complained about it every time there was a chance.

_ It' s very kind of you. Thank you. _

_ Thank you, Apollo. I had the best wine for the whole year for free. :P _

_I_ _ 'd like to write the same thing, but wine will probably not be my favorite drink. _

_ I also think you are eating rather than booze. What about going to Corinth on Friday after the meeting? They have a pretty good hot wings there. And spaghetti. Sweet not much, but the ice cream is great. _

_ Good. _

Enjolras had fallen asleep that night faster than ever.

_ (—And it still hurt.) _

  * _● ● ● ● ● ●_



_ (It shouldn't hurt—) _

It was almost strange how quickly things had changed between them.

Grantaire and Enjolras met more than three years ago. Enjolras was only in second semester at the university. He was best student of the year and after two months in school, profesora offered him to skip one year. They knew he wouldn't learn more, and they would just stop him in freshman year. Enjolras refused their offer. It didn't seem right to him thank to his ability to remember everything, put other students at a disadvantage. In the spring, one professor asked him to tutor students at risk of forfeiting on her subject. Enjolras liked her and therefore agreed.

It was the fourth meeting with Bossuet. He was already in his third year, but threatened to be fired. Even though the law was not a problem, he was always out of luck with the tests. Somehow, he managed to get so entangled in everything that he still had an  _ inadequate _ in index. He hadn't lost his hope, but the school had a little patience with him.

They were sitting in the study together, it was getting dark. They had several books open in front of them and Enjolras tried to smile at every Bossuet's silent curse. He tried. But it wasn't enough for the tests. They could sit over the books for two hours now when Grantaire entered the room. Enjolras noticed him right through the door. Torn pants stained with paint, pulled black sweatshirt, dark glasses on eyes, sparrow's head on the head, cigarette behind the ear, longer beard, earrings, nose piercing, tattooed neck. As soon as he saw Bossuet, he waved to him, walked to their table and burst in greeting. Bossuet laughed. Enjolras found it disgusting. "You son of a bitch." Everyone in the study turned to them, most of them staring, some whispering quietly. "What the fuck was that?"

Bossuet shrugged. "You wanted something new, unprecedented."

"Not so much, you asshole," Grantaire said, taking off his sunglasses. "I wanted to enjoy myself a little, not get into jail." Only now he noticed that Bossuet wasn't alone at the table. Grantaire looked at Enjolras just as Enjolras did at him before. Tall figure, naughty blond hair, big blue eyes. His white shirt was tight on his body, exposing the muscles of his hands and chest. He had a gold ring on his right hand, a gold watch on his wrist, a black bracelet underneath it. Everything looked expensive. His eyes were cold, his expression neutral, smelling of cinnamon. "Jesus, sorry, do you have that study session today?" Grantaire asked, but his eyes were still looking at Enjolras. “Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb. But this one deserved it.” He reached out to Enjolras and smiled,“ I'm Grantaire. His roommate on campus.”

"Ah," Enjolras said simply, accepting his hand. He had noticed that his hands had been dried from blue paint and cigarettes dirt behind his fingernails. "Enjolras."

Enjolras didn't like to remember their first meeting. He found Grantaire uncomfortable. Something about him madly irritated him. It wasn't so much the look, nor the stinking smell of cigarettes and alcohol that was around him. It was his behavior. When they began seeing each other at the regular meetings of their revolutionary group, he always had to remind himself that he didn't have to talk to him. He doesn't have to listen to his jokes, he doesn't have to react to his words, he doesn't have to be upset. At first it was difficult. Both were hot heads. They were stubborn. Neither wanted to lost. 

It started to get better after some. Enjolras understood that Grantaire would never convince himself into believing in his causes. He realized he would never stop drinking so much. And he would never stop telling his dirty jokes. On the other hand, he recognized that Grantaire was cordial, friendly and able to lift everyone's mood. He learned that he had a grandmother who was left alone and was trying to help and visit her as much as he could. He also stopped smoking before him. After a year he shaved his beard, stopped wearing torn things, pulled his nose piercing out, always put cologne on before he came. Whenever Enjolras spoke to him, he was kind to him. Even if the younger rebuked him. Grantaire, on the other hand, realized that Enjolras would never stop to be a dreamer. He understood that every person in France would be important to him. And he would never stop eat so much sweets. His inaccessible look was just a mask. He liked to listen to his friends, enjoy spending time with them and loving them just sitting at the TV in his home and watching movies. He was actually a quiet companion. He didn't show his emotions much. He acted mainly through his actions. He showed love through little things. Enjolras became adult before his eyes.

Their friendship has undergone many tests. They started to calling themselves  _ friends _ only six months ago. They celebrated Jehan's birthday at the bar. They drank a lot and danced. As they parted, Grantaire offered to accompany Enjolras home. He had a little more drinks and his head was spinning. He was okay, but a little disoriented. Enjolras remembers walking quietly with him, Grantaire occasionally supporting him or taking him by the elbow and guiding him in the right direction. Enjolras merely thanked or apologized. "Please, friends always do that for themselves," Grantaire protested. And somehow they agreed that they were friends now. Grantaire occasionally jabbed Enjolras and called him  _ mon ami _ across the Musain café, but Enjolras couldn't be angry with him. And maybe that was a sign of friendship.

Still, it seemed strange to Enjolras that they were meeting outside the group at least twice a week. They went to Corinth for food and wine, occasionally drank coffee in Musain or ate sweets on the bench in front of Mrs. Laufet's bakery. They always talked only briefly and rather devoted themselves to their drink or food. But the presence of the other, even in complete silence, gave them a moment of peace.

Enjolras smiled to himself. "What?" Grantaire asked as he finished another piece of strawberry cake.

“I just remember how we met each other.”

"Jesus, don't start," Grantaira whispered, and Enjolras smiled even more. “I was terrible back then. I mean, I'm not saying it's better now, but if I could go back in the past, I'd punch myself so hard that I'd get out of it for two weeks. ”

"Quite strong words." Enjolras finished his coffee and stood up. "I have to go. The school won't wait. ”

"Thanks for lunch, Apollo," Grantaire said immediately, and he also rose.

"You can't take this as lunch," Enjolras protested as he looked at their table. Finished plates with sweet pastries, coffee and one tea with rum.

“So next time I invite you and this time for a big lunch. Maybe I'll take you to some posh vegan restaurant. ”Enjolras just whispered quietly, and Grantaire laughed. Side by side they walked out in front of the café, just waving, each moving in their own direction.

Enjolras's life was finally recharged.

(—And it still hurt.)

  * ● ● ● ● ● ●



(It shouldn't hurt—)

Good two months after Enjolras started to meet Grantaire regularly, Enjolras felt as good as never. Everything slowly began to return to the old track. His heart finally understood to beat in regular responses, his feet stopped shaking, his hands stopped sweating. Though he had seen Feuilly every week, he managed to smile at him heartily, not to think he need to give him a wedding speech in a year. He didn't even think of the wedding. He focused on work, school, his friends. He even called his parents, whom he hadn't seen in a good seven months, and asked them how they were, and promised them he'd be home for Christmas.

Everything seemed too perfect. Enjolras should have expected something to happen. Maybe he knew it somewhere in the corner of his mind, but he didn't want to admit it. Therefore, when he came home after school one evening, packed with new energy and enthusiasm for work, after he had made his coffee and sat down at the computer, start writing his final thesis while Beethoven's symphonies were Playing loudly at his whole apartment; he didn't expect anything to go wrong. When his cell phone rang, he didn't looked at the display to see who was calling and picked it up. "Yes?"

" _ Am I interrupting you?" _ Feuilly. Enjolras looked at the screen as if expecting a redhead to jump out of it. There was a moment of šílence. " _Enjolras?_ " 

Enjolras took a quick breath. “Oh, Feuilly, hello! I didn't expect you to call me.” His voice sounded too enthusiastic. "Somethings wrong?" He asked with concern and began to tap his foot nervously.

" _Always ready to save the world._ " Feuilly's laughter pounded Enjolras's heart. He could feel blood rushing into his cheeks. " _This time I need you to save me._ "

"Are you okay?"

" _Yes, I am._ " Feuilly sighed loudly. From the sounds on the other side, he probably took off his glasses. He only wore them when he was very exhausted. Enjolras felt his desire to invite him here, to his apartment, make him tea, and wrap him in the softest blanket he could find. “ _Mentally, I'm a little exhausted to tell the truth. The wedding gives me more work than I expected._ ” He laughed. But something about that tone was wrong. " _We need to change the wedding date._ "

"Something happened between you?" Enjolras didn't want to admit his heart leapt with joy.

“ _A little… but not in bad way! We still love each other, we're getting married, we still want to start a family together._ " Enjolras swallowed dry. He roared as a sign that he was listening. “ _But there is a situation… we need to change it. So we're not getting married next spring._ ”

"In summer?"

" _Yes, in the summer._ "

"That's not so—"

" _This year._ "

Enjolras blinked. "…Sorry?"

" _This year. This summer. Rather, July 20th._ ”

"You m..." Enjolras had to clear his throat. "You mean this summer?"

_ "Yes." _

"This June?"

" _Yes._ "

"That's less than two months."

" _I know._ " It sounded like a sigh. “ _It's incredibly quick. But… it has good reasons._ ”Feuilly paused for a moment. He was probably wondering if he should tell Enjolras all the details. " _But I'll leave it until the wedding._ "

Another moment of silence struck Enjolras. "Are you calling me to make sure I can make the speech?" He finally asked, and Feuilly, on the other hand, just sighed again. "You don't have to worry." Enjolras felt a slight smile. “I can write a speech in a few hours. You know me."

" _I know_ ," Feuilly said in such a soft voice that Enjolras almost wanted to ask  _ And are you sure you know everything _ ? “ _That's why I'm calling you. You're the only one who can help me… I know you've helped me so many times that I'm embarrassed to ask you—_ ”

Enjolras didn't even let him finish. “Feuilly. I will do everything for you." The urgency in his voice almost frightened him. “If I can do something for you, something that will help you and make you happy, just tell me. You don't even have to ask. You know I'll try to be as helpful as possible. ”

" _You're awesome, Enjolras._ " Enjolras closed his eyes tightly. His thoughts began to play with his ideas again. He didn't want to think that he wanted to hear that sentence from him long ago. He wanted him to whisper it in his ear as they hug each other. Embracing in his bed. Lost in the blankets, where they are both naked and whispering words about— “ _I need your help with the wedding. Like, with everything. I need to have you on hand. Can you do that for me?_ ”

Enjolras blinked in confusion. "What exactly do you mean?"

" _Guest list, wedding color, where to get the best outfit, then maybe—_ "

"Wait," Enjolras said weakly, his voice tapping a little. "You want me to help you arrange your wedding?"

" _Yes_ ," Feuilly said, almost defeated.

"You mean like — like — your wedding.”

“ _I know, I should arrange it. And Patricia. But she… she can't now. She isn't feeling well. And I don't know when it will be good again. She needs to relax and all the stress around the wedding just aggravates. I see how unhappy she's about it. And I work a lot. I'm not with her. In the evenings when she falls asleep, I'm just doing this. Patricia gave me a list of everything that has to be arranged. She even wrote things to me at the wedding, what should be done and what needs to be done. And I still don't know. Enjolras… ”Feuilly sounded like he was going to cry every minute. “You're the first person I call. You're always the first I think of when I need something. I know, I know, it's terrible. Sounds like I'm using you now, but ... but I don't have anyone to confide in. Whom could I… Whom I want to ask?_ ”

"Please don't say anything more." Enjolras closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "Please."

" _… Enjo—_ "

"I'll do it for you." He felt tears pouring into his eyes. "Anytime."

" _God, Enjolras, if I could be with you, I'll kiss you so hard._ "

Enjolras dug his hand into his pants and tightened his lips. "Please don't."

“ _I know, sorry, I know how you feel about these kind of things and stuff. I know you._ ”Feuilly laughed. He sounded happy. Enjolras couldn't ruin his enthusiasm.

"Um," he murmured only into the apparatus so that he couldn't hear how much he was trying not to cry. He couldn't show how weak he was. This was not expected of him.

“ _Could we meet in Musain on Wednesday to discuss it? I couldn't do it today._ ”

"Um," Enjolras murmured again, taking a deep breath. "Can you think about what you need to help with?"

" _I apologize in advance if the answer is — with everything." He laughed again. His beautiful, soft, sweet voice. Enjolras had to bite his tongue. He couldn't leave a single painful groan. Not now. “I won't disturb you anymore, I believe you have a lot. Anyway, I have to go to Patrícii, she's asleep, but I want to control her. Enjolras ... thank you very much again. You're the best bestman I could have wished._ ”With that, Feuilly hung up.

Enjolras listened to the beep for a good two minutes. His eyes were black. His heart pounded only shallowly. His breath almost stopped. As he placed the phone on the table, he felt a tear run down his face. He quickly wiped it away and took a deep breath. His voice quivered. Another tear ran down his face. He wiped it again. He didn't want to cry. He always took crying as evidence of his own weakness. He hated it.

He picked up his phone again and dialed Grantaire's number. As soon as the beep sounded that he had picked up the call, he did not wait for his greeting and began, “Grantaire, I, I, I'm fine. Like cool. With everything. You know I was fine now. We talked about it yesterday, in Corinth, how you had those spaghetti. They were really good. Please, can you— ”

" _Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down, Apollo!_ " Grantaire shouted on the other side. Enjolras immediately bit his lip. _“You sounds like me. This isn't a good sign. Something happened?_ "

Enjolras just chuckled. He asked the same question to Feuilly. He knew something was happening. Grantaire seemed to be the same. "It's so easy to tell?" He rose from his chair and went to the kitchen, where he poured himself a glass of water. "Feuilly called me."

" _I'm a little afraid it wasn't about your totally perfect, but a completely made-up speech_."

"No," Enjolras agreed, putting the glass on the counter. "He wants me to help him with the wedding."

" _… Help with what?_ "

"I don't know, he didn't tell me the details, he said he would think through them." Enjolras ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "He said something about the guest list, about the choice of clothes, about some color — Damn, what did he mean, what color? Is there any color for the wedding? ”

" _Yes,_ " Grantaire said, not even seeing him to realize he was shaking his head. “ _But that is not important now. I mean the color._ ”

"No," Enjolras agreed, his fingers running down the wooden line. “Important — Damn, Grantaire, my heart pounded. When we called, I even— ”His lips tightened. He can't tell him how weak he is. He can't do it.

" _Did you cry?_ "

"Don't be ridiculous," Enjolras said, snorting. He quickly wiped away another tear that ran down his face. He suddenly felt defeated. He felt his legs betray him. He had to kneel. “I've been helping him so many times. So many times. It never made me a problem. Not even now. Actually, I'm glad he asked me. On the other hand…"

" _On the other hand, you're bothered by those fucking feelings, right?_ "

"Yeah," Enjolras whispered so softly that he hardly heard himself.

" _Look, it's pretty late, but do you have enough energy to watch the Star Wars marathon and drink a really good gin and tonic?_ "

Enjolras smiled. "Yes."

" _Great, I'll be at yours in half an hour._ "

(—And it still hurt.)

  * ● ● ● ● ● ●



(It shouldn't hurt—)

"Two months. Less than two months. Fucking month and a half. How do you plan to arrange the wedding in a month and a half? ”Enjolras finished his tonic glass and looked at Grantaire, whose cheeks turned red. Enjolras smiled, little tipsy and said quietly, "I always have a plan."

The meeting with Feuilly wasn't so great. Enjolras knew nothing about wedding planning. He never even thought of getting married. Unlike Jehan or Courfeyrac, he had never imagined what, by Jehan's words,  _ happiest day in his life _ would look like. He had been on wedding twice, but for the first time he was seven years old - and all he remembered was that he was sick from a cocoa drink and threw up on bride's dress - and at fifteen when his not so favorite cousin get married and after lunch he disappeared immediately with his parents as fast as possible. But Feuilly was worse. He had never been on a wedding, hoping that once he get married, his bride would be Fine with getting marry in office. "I'm terrible," Feuilly said, covering his face with his hands. "Patricia dream about perfect day and I'll totally ruin it." Enjolras couldn't resist holding hands with Feuilly. He stroked his back and Feuilly looked at him. Enjolras smiled and said softly, “I can handle it. Leave it to me.”

After this, Enjolras' free time looked a lot different. He would normally sit at table school books of law studies, wrote newspaper articles, plan demonstrations, and donate money to charity. But now? He spend most of his time ať wedding websites, reading articles about wedding planning, calculating budget, and looking for a place where a ceremony might be.

After three weeks of sitting at wedding sites all night, he decided to take a break. He wrote to Grantaire simply:  _ “Corinth in an hour. How about some stronger this time?." _ When he entered the pub, Grantaire was already waiting for him with ready shots of rum and ordered hot beef steaks. "Good to see you too," Grantaire laughed. "How's the wedding planning,  _ bridesmaid _ ?"

Enjolras looked at Grantaire and sighed. "Do you really want to know?"

"Sure." Enjolras pulled a white folder from his backpack, with big WEDDING name on it and placed it in the center of the table. The table almost bent under the weight. Grantaire's eyes widened and he looked at Enjolras, who looked almost guilty. "Are you kidding?"

"No."

"You made a wedding file?"

"… Yeah," Enjolras whispered defeated, putting his forehead on the table. "I'm like a teenager."

"You bet, Apollo!" Grantaire laughed as he opened the file and flipped through it. "Torn articles from wedding magazines about everything you need to know." Grantaire chuckled, and Enjolras sighed again. “Printed images, really? Dresses, flowers, hair style, nails,... Well,  _ wow _ ! ”

Enjolras rested his chin on the table and pointed a finger at the file. "Look at page thirty-five."

Grantaire immediately jumped to the side of what Enjolras had told him and exploded with laughter. "Shit, do I see right?" Enjolras just nodded and grinned a little. "You chose a dress for Cosette's dog!" With that, his eyes teared, and Enjolras finally sat up normally. "This is what I call a sense for details."

"Crazy," Enjolras said, picking up a shot of rum. He drank it one gulp. "Ugh."

"You'll make yourself sick." Grantaire shook his head and flipped through the file again. “But, like, seriously now. It's nice. Really. You're a detailist, a perfectionist." Grantaire flipped through a page with a list of guests and a seating table at the feast. He smiled when he saw that he was sitting beside Enjolras. "It's really nice."

"But?" Grantaire looked at Enjolras, indicating that he didn't understand. "It sounded a bit like you wanted to say  _ but _ ."

"Maybe," Grantaire admitted, flipping through the pages. “It's pretty nice. Jehan and Courfeyrac yeah, and Joly too, he's a bit more sensitive since Feuilly tell him about the wedding; would be amazed by this. They infected me with that wedding fever a little. And I was at quite weddings, so I kind of know when something is really well planned. But this is a bit expensive, too."

"Yeah, it is," Enjolras said truthfully. "But nobody needs to know."

"Feuilly and Patricia will surely know if it goes out of their pocket." Enjolras just shook his head. "What?"

"He doesn't know," Enjolras said, gazing at the empty rum glass.

"Apollo," Grantaire said in a slightly more serious voice than his usual. "You pay them the wedding?"

"A bit."

"Enjolras," Grantaire began this time, and Enjolras looked at the brunette. As soon as he said his name, he knew Grantaire wanted to talk to him seriously. "You can't be serious."

"He doesn't need to know everything."

Grantaire frowned, thought for a moment, then closed his eyes. "No," he whispered rather to himself, closing the file in front of him. "They don't know."

"No."

"Wait, but, you're talk with them about planning, right?"

"Only with Feuilly."

"All right, but you tell him what you were planning."

"He didn't have to know," Enjolras said immediately, looking behind him. He heard a bell ring in the kitchen. Their order is certainly finished. “It's a surprise. Patricia is returning from the hospital at weekend, so I want to take her with Feuilly to the place for the ceremony. Most things are already done. I have it all written down in a small file for two of them. It's my wedding present."

"You are giving the boy you are in lo—" Enjolras looked at him sharply. "—like, his wedding as a wedding present." Grantaire chuckled. "You're fucking kidding." 

"No."

"Do you understand, please, Enjolras, do you understand how weird it is?" He just nodded. "You understand?" Grantaire asked once more when Enjolras did not answer, and looked at the plate in front of him.

"Understand," Enjolras said defeated, and looked at Grantaire. “But I will feel better if I make him happy. And if it means paying him his wedding? I will do it." With that he looked back at the plate and began to eat slowly.

Grantaire knew the discussion was over.

(—And it still hurt.)

  * ● ● ● ● ● ●



(It shouldn't hurt—) 

Bahorel jumped around Feuilly's neck and gave him a smug kiss on his cheek. Feuilly laughed loudly, trying to pull Bahorel away. But he wasn't so easily beaten and tried to give him another kiss on his forehead and face. Everything was seen by their friends, holding beer bottles and laughing as warmly as Feuilly. "Dude, I'll miss the way we flirted with all bitches around," Bahorel said, resting his forehead on Feuilly's shoulder. "My friend just died man." He pursed his lips and began to sniff as if he gonna start crying on the spot. Feuilly just rolled his eyes and the others started laughing again.

"Life doesn't end with marriage," Feuilly protested, pushing Bahorel away.

"But freedom does," Courfeyrac said, finishing his beer. "That's why you should enjoy every last bit of it." He turned and pointed to the door behind them. "Can we?" Everyone finished their beer, threw the bottles into the trash, and just nodded. Someone, probably Bossuet, shouted something about that  _ this night going to be a ride _ and they all walked into the building.

Dancing club. Loud music bounced off the walls. Colored spotlights shone everywhere, blinking purple, pink, green and blue light in quick speed. It was so hot inside that all of them immediately started to take off their sweatshirts. Most of the quests were dancing in the dance floor. Girls wore short skirts, narrow shorts, tight-fitting tank tops. Everybody's hair burned to the rhythm of dance, their makeup was already lost. Some boys had their shirts unbuttoned, others had thrown them away long ago. Sweat bounced on their foreheads, on their bodies. It seemed that if they wanted to spend the night with  _ another dance _ , no one would get them out of those pants. The bar was backlit and equipped with a variety of alcohol brands and colors. Two bartenders were busy behind the counter. There were several groups in boxes around the walls, each at a different stage of drunkenness.

"I'm home!" Courfeyrac yelled, throwing his arms above him as if wanted to hug everyone.

"I think I will like it over there," Bahorel said, pointing boldly at a box of five girls who had already had several colorful cocktails in them.

“I will probably get an epileptic seizure from those lights. Where's the toilet?! ”Joly began to stress, looking around.

"I hope they have some good vodka, I can't get anywhere in Paris," Grantaire thought aloud.

"We should sit down," Jehan finally commanded, pointing to their table in the back of the box. The music wasn't so loud there, but it was the most hot inside. Bahorel immediately took off his shirt and knelt on the ground. He did a few push-ups and stood up again. He glanced at his body, his muscles strained, and glanced at the whole group of his friends. Some laughed, some just rolled their eyes, Bossuet's face was almost disgusted. "Do you still have to show off like that?" He finally asked, putting his hands across his chest.

"Are you jealous?" Bahorel asked, sticking his tongue at him.

Jehan disturbed them with the simple: "Go now." With that, Bahorel disappeared into the crowd. "We won't see him again today," he said immediately, and the others just nodded.

"And that was his idea," Enjolras said immediately, looking at Feuilly. "Sorry, as a bestman, I should have taken care of it."

"Come on," Feuilly said immediately, taking his hand. Enjolras tried not to think how warm his palms were. How beautiful, even after everything they already had, he smelled. “I am grateful to you. For everything. I didn't care about some Bachelor party. I had no idea I will have one. Wedding is more important to me.” He stroked Enjolras's fingers a few times. "And thanks to you, I will have it." Enjolras looked at him and only now realized how close they were. The box was too small for ten people, and although Bahorel had long gone, they were all stuck like sardines.

"I'll bring some drinks for start." Enjolras looked side where Grantaire stood, smiling at both. Before Enjolras could say anything, Grantaire took his hand and dragged him with him.

"Thanks," Enjolras said as they ordered a shot of vodka for all their friends.

"No worry, Apollo, I'll keep an eye on you."

"Me?" Enjolras asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I know how Bachelor party goes," Grantaire said immediately, picking up a tray with glasses. He glanced at Enjolras and said seriously, "You will thank me for having you on the scale."

"I don't need a nanny to watch me," Enjolras said right away, hearing the coldness of his voice.

"Who talked about you?" Grantaire went back to their box.

At first Enjolras was not enthusiastic about the very idea of a bachelor party. After one evening full of wedding preparations, Grantaire brought him home, along with pizza and beer, a  _ Party in Vegas _ . Since then, he had a distorted view of all Bachelor parties. Though he had never been to any, he knew it could go wrong at any time. Therefore, he didn't even think of arranging one to Feuilly. But the others could not let go of it, and a week ago they began to agree that it might be time to prepare something for Feuilly. Enjolras tried to ignore the whole chat, but when the boys started sending out all kinds of links to men's clubs, he intervened. _ “Do you understand how much it would be humiliating for Patricia? Guys, the boy is getting married. He doesn't need to see a naked woman. He has it at home. And she’s gonna be HIS WIFE! I like to join Feuilly's bachelor party, but only if you stop thinking with that thing between your legs. _ ” Although Bahorel and Courfeyrac protested, Enjolras opinion wom. Combeferre and Jehan together found a dance club where they made a reservation that evening. In the end, it seemed they had made the right decision.

Although Enjolras hadn't danced, he hadn't drank much, and had never actually been to the party for more than an hour and a half so far; he liked this strangely. Bahorel tried to seduce every girl on the dance floor without success. Jehan, Marius, and Joly had been dancing together for a good hour, and they didn't seem to want to stop. Courfeyrac flirted with a tall, tattooed boy who was paying him a lot of drinks. Grantaire was sitting at the bar, informing bartender in detail about his life, who after this needed drink too. Bossuet disappeared after only a few minutes because he was sick of a combination of beer and strong alcohol. Combeferre had been chatting in the next box with the girl who had given him her number on the dance floor for ten minutes now.

They all smiled and enjoyed themself. They were happy. Maybe that's why Enjolras was so excited. But-

He looked across the table where Feuilly was sitting. He was drinking alcohol through his straw in his colorful cocktail and smiling broadly. He only danced a few times but drank several drinks. His cheeks were red, his forehead sweaty, his pupils widened. Enjolras wanted to say something, and he might even want to drag Feuilly to dance with him, when Bahorel suddenly appeared beside them and jumped around Feuilly's neck again. "Dude, these girls are so stupid!" Bahorel roared from his lungs, and Feuilly laughed from his heart. Bahorel had always made Feuilly laugh. He didn't even have to say anything funny, he just spoke to him. Enjolras feel stung in his heart. He never did. "They don't understand what they're missing."

"Certainly not," Feuilly said in a low voice. This happened to him when he had more alcohol in him than he could bear. Enjolras frowned a little.

"Only one, buddy, only one!" To prove the number, Bahorel raised his index finger and shook his head. "Only one got it." With that same finger, Bahorel pointed before them. A pretty brown-haired girl with almost golden eyes stood before them. She was wearing a pink tank top, and it was clear she didn't have a bra under it. Her shorts were so short that they could almost be considered to panties. She had a black knee sock on one leg, a white sock on the other. She had blue glitter around her eyes, her wrists, and her knees. Her hair was twisted into two braids. She looked young. Too young. "Dude," Bahorel said importantly, looking at Feuilly. "She's there for you."

"What?" Feuilly and Enjolras asked simultaneously.

"Well, you don't think I would leave my wonderful  _ brother _ alone." He stood behind the girl and put his hand on her shoulders. “This is Ashley. Sure, it's not her name, but you can call her that when you put it in her ass.” Feuilly choked on his own saliva and Enjolras opened his mouth wide. "We talked about it and Ashley doesn't mind, does it?" She shook her head with a broad smile and looked at Feuilly again. "You know, she kind of likes redheads."

"I'm a redhead," Feuilly said suddenly, pointing at himself.

"You are!" Bahorel shouted, and he and Feuilly had a high five. "Enjoy it." He looked at Enjolras and signaled him to go on the dance floor with him.

But Enjolras didn't see him. Instead, he was looking at Ashley,  _ or what the hell was her name _ , which slowly went over to Feuilly and put her hands on his shoulders. "You have a very heavy name for me," she said in brittle French, gently stroking Feuilly's shoulders. He shivered a little. "Do you mind if I call you sweetheart?" 

"Definitely not," Feuilly said with a smile and put his hands on her waist. It was incredibly slim. She looked like a porcelain doll. "Sit down," Feuilly said again in that drunken voice. But this time there was something else. Deeper, more hoarse. Ashley slowly sat down on Feuilly's lap and stroked him on the stubble on his face with her long fingernails. "You're beautiful," Feuilly said suddenly, smiling at her. Ashley laughed and began to lean at him.

"No," Enjolras said suddenly, rising quickly from his seat. He took Ashley's wrist and pulled her on feet. She looked at him frightened and blinked.

"Hey!" Cried Feuilly, this time with Bahorel.

"No," said Enjolras and quickly released her. She began stroking her wrist. Even in the gloom, Enjolras saw how red it was. He had to squeeze her with more force than he wanted. He regretted it a little. "No," he said loudly. “Feuilly's getting married. He has a fiancee at home." He turned to Bahorel, his eyes and mouth wide open. “Go with him if you want someone who's single. But not him. ”

"Fuck, are you his mother?" Bahorel said, stepping over to Enjolras and grabbing his shoulder.

"I'm not," Enjolras said coldly. "I'm just his good friend."

"So am I, right?"

"The only good friend with the brain in the right place." With that, he got out of Bahorel, took Feuilly's hand and pulled him to his feet. He quickly pulled his wallet out of his pocket and gave Bahorel several banknotes in his hand. “For mines and Feuilly's drinks." With that, he grabbed Feuilly's wrist as tightly as Ashley's before, pulling him across the crowd to the door.

As they both left the club, it began to whistle in their ears. It was minutes after three o'clock in the morning. There was silence and darkness everywhere. A few places were lit by a lamp. Two blocks from the club was the parking lot where their car stood. "What?" Feuilly asked suddenly, confused, brushing his hair with his free hand.

"You have to go home," Enjolras said firmly.

"I don't want to go home yet," Feuilly protested in the voice of a small child.

Enjolras glanced at Feuilly who was pouting. "You must," Enjolras said again, this time a little more gently. "You are drunk. Do you understand what you almost did? "

"Did I put a pretty, young girl on myself?" Feuilly tried, frowning a little. He seemed to think.

Enjolras sighed. "Exactly. Can't you see anything wrong with that?" 

"Should I?" Feuilly asked again, blinking a few times this time.

"You're must be k — God, why am I trying to talk to a drunken man, after all, you can't think straight right now." He finally released Feuilly's hand and put his hands in his pockets. "It will be better that way. You'll sleep. You might have a hangover. But you're not going home with knowing you hurt someone. ”

"Did I want to hurt anyone?" Feuilly stroked his red wrist and Enjolras muttered softly.

"Yes. Patricia. Even yourself. You would never forgive yourself for cheating on her.” Feuilly looked at him and just nodded. “You see. Better go home.”

“Shall we go? Both?"

"Both."

"So, will I hurt Patricia not because of Ashley, but because of you?"

Enjolras blinked in confusion. "Sorry?"

"Well," Feuilly began, taking a step closer to Enjolras. "You're taking me home."

"To your home."

"Where's Patricia?"

"Where's Patricia."

"Not to your?"

"Why would I do that?"

"So that we can hurt Patricia."

“What — what? Feuilly, damn it.” Enjolras sighed aloud. “That's exactly what it is. You don't know what you're saying. You don't know what now — Let's do it, come on. Let's go. ”

"To you?"

"No," Enjolras said, a little exhausted.

"But I want to go to you," Feuilly said suddenly, taking another step toward Enjolras. "I want to hurt Patricia." As soon as he said it, he shook his head. The curls on his head glittered with gold in the lamp. Enjolras swallowed dry. “I mean, I don't want to hurt her. Apparently, she's very important to me. Fiancée, you said. ”

"God, you're this type of drunk," Enjolras said to himself. Bahorel was aggressive. Grantaire was depressing. Combeferre sang aloud. Courfeyrac stopped talking. Joly danced until he vomited. Bossuet vomited straight. Jehan always climbed on tables, bars, trees. Marius couldn't stop laughing. Feuilly seemed to forget everything. "At least you won't feel bad if you don't know what you were planning."

"I was going to have some fun," Feuilly admitted. “But not with Ashley. I wanted to have fun with someone else.” He said it in a low, cold voice. He never heard him like that. As if it wasn't him. "With you." Enjolras feel a ran of chill on his back. He blinked a few times. Only now did he realize how close they were to each other. They noses almost touched. Enjolras looked into his green eyes, which seemed almost black. He tried to step back, but Feuilly grabbed his elbows and pulled him close. Their noses rubbed against each other.

"W-"

"I heard an interesting gossip today," Feuilly said, still in a low but sweet tone. “There's someone who likes me." Enjolras's heart missed a few beats. “And he would do everything he could to have me." Feuilly's gaze dropped to Enjolras's mouth. “But what would people think of him then? What would his friends say about him? And what would I think? I would hate him. Because he would hurt me. So much I would never want to see him again.” Enjolras's lips began to tremble. “He wouldn't do that. He will suffer. Watch me marry someone else. Watch me kiss someone else. See how I love someone else.” Feuilly smiled as he saw Enjolras's lips part a little. “But if he had the chance, the only one in his life to feel he can had me; he will do everything for it. Still, some young girl dressed as a schoolgirl will not stop him.” Feuilly looked into Enjolras's eyes, which were shining with tears. "Am I not right?"

"No," Enjolras whispered.

"No?" Feuilly asked cautiously.

"No," Enjolras repeated. "I do not know what you're talking about."

"I think you know more than well," Feuilly said before leaning over Enjolras's mouth and whispering, "Why are you shaking so much then?"

Enjolras closed his eyes tightly. He waited for pressure on his mouth. He waited for the next fire of words. He was waiting for everything. Instead, he felt Feuilly let go of him, and Enjolras felt only cold around him. When he opened his eyes, he saw Feuilly hurry to one of the trees and vomit. Enjolras finally took a breath. "Are you all right, buddy?" Enjolras blinked, and now he noticed that Grantaire was standing at the entrance, smoking a cigarette. He looked over his shoulder at Feuilly, who raised his thumb in the air to indicate that he was all right. "And you?" Enjolras blinked and pointed at himself. "Yeah, you," Grantaire said seriously, tossing the butt to the ground. He's done. That means was there for some time now.

"Yeah, I am," Enjolras said weakly.

Grantaire just nodded and walked over to the bollard. He looked to the right and said quietly. "I said I wasn't here to watch you today." With that, a dark blue car appeared, which Grantaire waved his Hand at. He walked over to Feuilly, stroked his back a few times and said something quietly. Feuilly just nodded and let Grantaire drive up to the car, where the driver opened the back door and helped him with Feuilly. "Thanks, you have it with me," he said to the driver, who just winked at him. They seemed to know each other. "I'll go with him," he said to Enjolras, who was still stuck in the same place. "Will you ride with us?"

"No," Enjolras said as he awoke from shock. "I — I — I have some things inside and—"

"Right," Grantaire said immediately. "Are you okay?"

"You've already asked."

"Um," Grantaire grumbled and looked into the car, where Feuilly fell on the back seats and began snoring loudly. "You won't do some st—"

"Go," Enjolras said sternly.

Grantaire looked at him for a moment before nodding his head and said weakly, "Good night, Enjolras." He didn't wait for an answer and get away.

Enjolras had no idea how he got home. All he knew was that it was dawn when he unlocked the door to his apartment. He couldn't sleep. He didn't know if it was because of the singing of the birds, the hot sun or the heat. Or the fact that his heart was pounding, his hands were shaking, and he was still thinking about what Feuilly had told him. On what he was trying to do _. I want to hurt Patricia _ . What did he mean?

Enjolras pulled up all the blinds, made a tea, and lay in bed. His stomach was on the water. He checked himself not to drink too much. He still wanted to be sensible if something happened. Which, thanks to Bahorel, almost happened. He was very angry with writing a message for Bahorel where he would blame his behavior, but he knew he wouldn't take it anyway. As for others, Enjolras was a symbol of puritanism. They always made fun of him. Not too eye-catching, and not very often, but they did. Enjolras didn't care about it. But now it would bother him. Was he the only one who understood how much it would hurt Feuilly?

Enjolras kept rolling over the bed. He couldn't find the right position. Each thought of something different. Sometimes how strongly Feuilly grabbed Ashley's hips. Sometimes the way Feuilly tried to kiss him. Sometimes Grantaire was staring at him, something in his eyes that he couldn't name.

When it was eleven in the afternoon, his stomach grew and his head was wobbling, he got a message. He looked reluctantly at the display. As soon as he had read the sender's name, he immediately sat down. He didn't care that his stomach suddenly went up. He needed to know what Feuilly needed from him.

_ Hello. I'm really sick. Very bad. Extremely bad. Damn it. How much did I have yesterday? _

Four Sex on the Beach, Cocktails, two gin tonics, one rum, four vodkas and one Pinna Colada.

_ Not much. _

_ I thought I had more endurance, haha. _

_ It happens. _

_ Patricia told me that Grantaire brought me home with a friend. And that, thanks to you, I got home in usable condition. Relatively. Thanks. _

_ You're welcome. _

_ Maybe it's early for this, but, I didn't do something stupid, did I? _

Enjolras swallowed dry.

_ Why are you asking? _

_ I have such a strange feeling. Like I did something. Something really bad. But I can't remember. _

_ Someone in our group told you that I love you. Maybe more than a friend, but not as a lover. Something between. If there is any such thing like between. I can't name it. I tried, but I can't. Grantaire has been helping me with this for almost five months. He said he's the same with some guy. He didn't tell me who he was, but according to what he was talking about, he cared about him as much as I do for you. As drunk, you couldn't think rationally. It got a little confused in your head and got the idea that it would be great to enjoy the last piece of freedom with cheating on your girlfriend. A week before the wedding. Stupid. I tried to read it, to tell you, but you know that talking to a drunken man is like talking to a wall. You wanted to kiss me. Oh, God. Stupid. You tried to kiss me. You wanted it. And I ... probably too. I can still see your eyes glitter. And your hair tickled me. And your breath smelled sweet. Because of the all the sweet drinks I guest. And you had such big, beautiful lips to look at. At the moment I wanted it too. I closed my eyes because I was afraid I would say it out loud. I wanted you to do it. To break it. I don't know what would happen then, but I wanted to start digging my fingers in your hair and lips to kiss you and lick your lips with your tongue and reach for your body and lick your sweat and grab your pants and reach for your crotch and hope you're excited like me and— _

Enjolras felt blood pouring into his face. He took a deep breath and erased the message.

_ Nothing happened. _

_ Really? _

_ Really. _

_ Thank God. But I still have such a strange feeling on my chest. _

_ Me too. _

Enjolras deleted the message again.

_ Maybe just bad dreams. This happens when people are drunk. _

_ See, I never thought of that! Good to have you, my dear best man. _

_ Enjolras _ wrote off and hugged his knees with his hands. He fell on his side and began to breathe deeply. He could feel tears burning in his eyes. He can't, He doesn't, he can't afford to cry. There's nothing for it. Nothing happened. Everything is alright. For so long he tried to convince himself until he fell asleep exhausted.

_ Good thing you got me, Mr. Groom. _

(—And it still hurt.)

  * ● ● ● ● ● ●



(It shouldn't hurt—)

Feuilly stood in front of the mirror, trying to tie his tie. Even on the fifth attempt he failed. Nervously tapping his foot, his hands trembling a little. He had to drink water every now and then. He kept his eyes on the clock, which barely shifted.

Enjolras entered the room. "Did you look for me?" He asked Feuilly, who immediately turned to him. He tried to smile, but there was only a grin on his face. Enjolras smiled to himself. He knew very well what was going on. He closed the door behind him and walked over to Feuilly. "Let me do it," he said gently, tying his tie around his neck. After a few moves it was done. "Nervous?" Enjolras asked quietly as he adjusted Feuilly's shirt collar.

"I can't say how much," Feuilly said honestly. He coughed. He had to drink again. His throat was completely dry. Looking a little refreshed, he looked at his reflection in the mirror and laughed.

"What?" Enjolras asked worriedly.

"Isn't it illegal for a bestman to look better than a groom?" Enjolras smiled to himself. His blue suit was tailor-made and fit perfectly. The brown bracelet matched the brown belt around his hips and brown boots. He had gold rings on his right hand, gold watch on his left. His hair was smoothly combed this time. They were slightly darker than normal. Enjolras needed almost half of the hardener to getting them under control. His eyes in a blue suit glowed brilliantly.

Enjolras walked over to Feuilly, took him by the shoulders, and turned him to the mirror. They both looked at their reflections. "You look gorgeous." Enjolras praised him, and Feuilly smiled to himself. He wore a purple suit to match the color of their wedding; white shirt, black tie with white pattern, lavender tied on his lapel. His hair curled around his face, freshly shaved, and a blush on his face. He was still tapping his foot nervously.

"Is she nervous?" Feuilly asked Enjolras suddenly, looking into his face. "Patricia," he said.

"A little," Enjolras admitted. “But less than you. Calm down," he said seriously, stroking his shoulders a few times.

"Any advice?"

"Say  _ yes _ and try not to faint."

In an hour everyone was standing in the ceremony room. Feuilly waited at the altar along with Enjolras, who was still watching him from the corner of his eye. When Feuilly stepped over several times, he always stroked his back to calm him down. Feuilly always thanked him with a smile. The whole room was decorated with lavender, purple ribbons, white roses, golden lights. It smelled beautiful everywhere. The fragrance of the lunch being prepared for the festive banquet rang from the window. In the first seats, instead of families, sat their closest friends. Jehan admired the flowers, Joly and Courfeyrac were already crying ahead, Combeferre still checking the battery on his camera, Bossuet, Bahorel and Grantaire laughed loudly, Marius starred lovingly at Cosette and kissed her hand constantly.

When the music rang, everyone looked at the door where the most important woman of the day appeared. Patricia wore a beautiful, long, white lace dress, decorated with purple stones and white beads. A white, lace veil was draped over her face. Her hair was loose, her make-up was gentle, and she hadn't taken the jewelry. She just held a large bouquet of lavender in her hand. Even under the veil, he could see how wide she was smiling. Her best friend, who had tears in her eyes, led her hand to the altar. Slowly they reached the altar. "You're beautiful," Feuilly said quietly, taking her hand. He removed her veil and stroked her cheek. "I love you so much," he whispered, kissing her.

"After the ceremony, you horny teenagers," Bahorel said quietly, but clearly enough for everyone to hear. Enjolras glared at him, but everyone else laughed at his comment. Feuilly took hold of Patricia's hand and stood together in front of the priest who began to renounce the wedding vow.

Everything was perfect. Decor, music, food. People were having fun, laughing, taking pictures, dancing, drinking, eating. Enjolras was always grateful to all guests. Neither Feuilly nor Patricia concealed that they had the wedding they wished so much. Enjolras always replied, "That's what friends are doing for themselves." Feuilly invited everyone to the sweet bar, where he was just beginning to serve the wedding cake. Marius made sure he was the first to be at the chocolate palate.

When everyone settled down with sweets in their hands, Enjolras went to the center of the dance floor and asked for a microphone from the band. "Good evening," he said into the microphone. Everyone turned to him. “I'm Enjolras. I think you've noticed me standing by Feuilly. No, I'm not his stalker, just a bestman. And a little of admirer. But I prefer to talk about it at some other time so that the bride does not become jealous." His jokes was never funny. He had no idea what he thought. “I was asked to make a wedding speech. And, you who know me know that I have absolutely no problem with that. You who do not know me, regret that you have never heard me speak before.” God, what he is doing? “But most of my speeches are about law, equality, brotherhood, militancy, democracy." Enjolras looked at Feuilly, his eyebrows raised. “Don't worry, Mr. Groom, I won't have one of my demonstrative talks. I just wanted to get a little closer to all guest here. Don't worry so much, jesus." Everyone smiled and Feuilly just shook his head. “So, to say something about love, partnership, marriage… that's the premiere. I never thought about getting married. Actually, I kind of didn't believe in love. Because, from my own or friends or even my own family experience, I always felt that love was overrated.”He licked his lips and took a deep breath. He needed strength for this. "But that changed when I met Feuilly." He looked into his eyes lovely and smiled. “Thanks to him, I understand that something like true love really exists. I've known him for a good five years, and I have to say that he's one of the most suitable, hardworking, and most cordial people I've ever met. He never left anyone in trouble and was always on the side of those who needed it. Maybe that's why I was always a little afraid of who he'd fall in love with. Good guys exist, but when they come across the bad girl, it is suffering for them.” He glanced quickly at Patricia and tried to smile. “But fortunately it didn't happen. He found a soul as good as himself.” He felt his nose begin to tickle. That was not a good sign. "Patricia, I actually envy you a little," he said quietly, but immediately shook his head. "But I envy Feuilly too," he added. “You were both born for each other. You are a prototype of what the right couple should look like. Always being together, making love, showing love, supporting each other. I've always seen all this with you. And I always admired it." He held up his left hand, holding a glass of champagne, and looked at the newlyweds. “Let it last. By the end of your days. And let the love you have in you spread. To the next generations. Cheers." Everyone shouted  _ Cheers! _ and sipped their champagne. Enjolras already wanted to leave the floor when, "Yeah, and I have to tell from Courfeyrac that he wants to be an uncle of at least six children."

Before everyone could applause, Feuilly and Patricia replaced him at the dancefloor and took the microphone. "Good evening," they said as Enjolras said. He stood beside his friends and looked at the newlyweds, who were smiling broadly. “Thank you very much Enjolras for a very nice speech. That really touched us. And when we are so touched, we decided to tell you something that might please you as well." Feuilly looked at Patricia, who just nodded. “Well, I don't really know how to start." Feuilly stroked Patricia's stomach and Cosette squeaked at the table. "Courfeyrac, I don't know if I can fill in your number for what you want, but that's enough to get you started." And Feuilly forgetting he have a microphone shouted: "Patricia is pregnant!" 

Enthusiasm broke out. Some friends ran to them immediately and began to congratulate them, embracing them. The girls reached for Patricia's Belly, others patting Feuilly's back. After a few minutes, everyone sat back in their seats, returned to the sweet snacks, and the dance floor began to fill with the first dancers. "Where is Enjolras?" Feuilly asked suddenly as he went to the table with his closest friends and noticed his bestman was missing. "I don't know if he really heard it, I didn't see him at all in the announcement."

"He said he wasn't feeling well because of the heat, so he went outside to get some fresh air," Combeferre said.

"I'll look at him," Feuilly suggested.

"No," said Grantaire, along with Patricia, who stood beside his side. Feuilly and Grantaire looked at her in confusion. "He must have heard it," she said with a smile, stroking his arm. "Come on, let's go dance," she suggested, and Feuilly agreed. Before they could leave, Patricia patted Grantaire's shoulder and looked at him. "He's on the terrace," she said softly with sadness in her eyes. "Can you please check him out?"

Grantaire just nodded and went to the door that led to the terrace. Once opened, it seemed to him that it was even more hot outside than inside. The sun had set, but the sky was not black yet. The first stars and a bright full moon shone on the dark blue sky. Enjolras clung to the railing. His knuckles were almost white. He breathed deeply, looking somewhere in front of him, into space. "Patricia was right," Grantaire said, Enjolras didn't even turn to him. "She said you'd be here." He walked closer to Enjolras, looking at his back, seeing his shoulders lift quickly. He just sighed. "This is how you announcement it, fuck, whose idea was it?" Grantaire asked, throwing his hands up. “Like, I congratulated them, too. But do you know how disgusting it is? You congratulate two people for fucking without a condom. That's quite— ” Before Grantaire could say what he wanted to say, Enjolras turned sharply and hugged him hard around his neck. He buried his head in his shoulder, his nose touching the artery on his neck. It begans to beat a little faster. Grantaire felt that the force Enjolras had embraced him would break his ribs. "En-" 

"I can't, Grantaire," Enjolras whispered weakly. He tried to prove to everyone, and perhaps himself, that he was able to take care of everything. The engagement was difficult for him, but a couple of dinners with Grantaire relieved him of that feeling. Planning a wedding was difficult for him, but the smile on Feuilly's face had always calmed him for a moment. Meetings with Patricia was difficult, but every time he remembered how much Feuilly loved her, he had to smile at her. The bachelor party was heavy for him, but thanks to a few glasses of wine he forgot it. The wedding was difficult for him, but he forced himself to watch their first newlywed kiss to feel the love they had for each other. He knew all this was expected of him, and he wasn't going to disappoint. But announcing pregnancy? That was too much for him. "I tried, I really tried ..." he whispered in his shoulder, feeling Grantaire wrap his hands around his waist. "But I can't anymore." His shoulders shook, his eyes flooded with tears, and he cried loudly. He tried to choke all those sounds in his neck and in Grantaire's shoulder. His jacket was wet in a moment. He pressed even more on Grantaire. He could feel his heart pounding, the heat, the smell of cologne.

"Shh," Grantaire whispered, wrapping his arm around his waist with one hand, stroking his hair with the other. He said nothing. He knew it would be useless now. Enjolras needed to get it out of himself. For five months, he watched him suffer quietly. He saw him trying to convince himself that his feelings meant nothing. He saw him destroying himself. "Shh," he whispered again in his ear, and found himself kissing Enjolras's cheek. His skin was soft. He smiled. If only he know-

"I love him," Enjolras whispered. "God, I love him, Grantaire."

Grantaire was silent for a moment. Then he merely whispered, "I know."

"I love him. I love him. ”

"Shh."

"I love him…"

He whispered it several more times. Grantaire just stroked his hair, his sides, trying to comfort him. Enjolras wept for half an hour.

If he raised his head, he would see Grantaire's crying too. 

(—And it still hurt.)

  * ● ● ● ● ● ●



(It shouldn't hurt—)

Enjolras remembered the following months all too well.

For the first two weeks he fell asleep crying, waking up with a headache. He kept blowing his nose, he had swollen eyes, swollen lips, and a red nose. He said that he have pollen allergy. No one asked more.

When his tears had dried up, it began a week without sleep. He couldn't concentrate on work. He couldn't talk to people, but he couldn't even be alone. He didn't want to talk, but the silence was killing him. After a week he passed out right in the middle of the Musain café. Joly brought him to the toilet then, sprinkled him with water, and wiped his pale forehead. He said it's too much hot for him in this season. No one asked more.

Right after that, he decided to find a job. He began to volunteer for a homeless charity. But even there he found a moment when he had nothing to do and returned home with thoughts that had slowly killed him. Therefore, he began to help single mothers. The next week he began helping out as a volunteer in a dog shelter. From one job to another. He came home exhausted, his whole body ached, but the mind could think of nothing but bed and sleep. That reassured him. He lost weight because he forgot to eat. He began to suffer from rashes because he only drank coffee. He said he overworked himself. No one asked more.

When he began a new semester at school, he set to study eberyday. He sat on the campus from dawn to night. Occasionally he fell asleep with his head in the books. He missed several meetings of their group. He said he need perfect scores. No one asked more.

"It's been three months," Enjolras said as he looked out the street through the window. Beginning of autumn, the trees turned yellow, the flowers were falling, the days were colder and the nights longer. “How can you stand it? To be unhappy? ”

"I drink," Grantaire laughed as he sat across from him. Seeing Enjolras's eyes pierce his wine bottle, he quickly took it into his hand. "I can't deal with my own shits because I'm a weak man." Enjolras didn't flinch, but he didn't even smile. "But you aren't weak, Apollo," Grantaire whispered almost gently, as if trying to calm him down. Perhaps he knew his heart was crying and bleeding. “A broken heart is shit. But I know you can beat it in time. ”

So Enjolras tried. As always. He was still helping the charities and the shelter, but he was taking big breaks not to be overworked. He was still concentrating on school, but he was able to take a break for his hobbies and hot food. At ten o'clock in the evening, he turned off his cell phone, turned off and looked out the window. When he had a worse day, he fell asleep at morning. The important thing was that he fell asleep. He slept and had the energy for the next day.

Enjolras was still meeting with his friends. He was still seeing Feuilly. But he never showed anything. It hurt to talk to him as if nothing had happened. It hurt to watch Feuilly constantly play with the ring on his hand. It hurt to hear his friends chatting about relationships, about new girls and boys they knew, about sex for one night they had. It hurt to hear Feuilly talking frantically about how he can't wait to being a father.

Everything hurted so much.

But he wasn't alone. Since the wedding, his bond with Grantaire has deepened. They seemed to understand each other without words. Grantaire didn't ask him any questions and talked about his own problems, school, family, friends, boxing tournaments, amateur art exhibitions, fencing lessons, which he increasingly liked. He tried to absorb Enjolras with his presence so much that he didn't think of stupid it things. Not to think of a broken heart. Not to think of Feuilly. At first it didn't work much and Enjolras was silent. But after a few weeks, he began paying some attention to his crying. Sometimes he was bored, sometimes entertained, sometimes he wanted to argue, sometimes he felt like Grantaire was telling him some fairy tale. Whatever it was, it was at least something.

And that's what Enjolras appreciated.

When November was in its midst and the first snow flakes descended to the ground, they were sitting together in their usual place in front of Mrs. Laufet's bakery. "Fucking winter came a month earlier!" Grantaire demanded, looking at the sky that was dark gray. “That will be a shit in the house again. Our home switches on heating only in mid-December, because the owner thinks that  _ by then it is not cold at all. _ Fuck him. I should really move now."

"Come to me," Enjolras said. He was surprised by what he said. “At least one night. I can put heating one anytime. We can order something for dinner, watch a movie. ”

Grantaire was silent for a moment, hypnotizing his sweet pastry tray, but smiling. "Thanks."

So they sat down on Enjolras sofa, watching sci-fi movies, eating pizza and drinking cola with rum. In the middle of the second film, Enjolras suddenly laughed. Out of nowhere. Grantaire looked at him in surprise, and Enjolras just waved his hand. "Oh, just that I'm Fine, feeling good, you know," he said quietly, as if he was afraid someone would scold him for it. Grantaire just nodded and focused back on the screen. He began to smile himself. It had been three months since Enjolras laughed. And now, thanks to him, because of their bond, which they had created in the last almost a year, he made him smile.

He couldn't be more proud of himself.

(—And it still hurt.)

  * ● ● ● ● ● 



(It shouldn't hurt—)

Enjolras was well on his way to dealing with his broken heart. Still somewhere deep in his mind, he knew that what he feel every time he saw Feuilly, was definitely not a friendship, but he didn't try to name it anymore. It was enough once. He didn't want to go back to it. In fact, in the last months, he and Feuilly had stopped talking as they had before. They greeted each other, chatted in a group, but they did not write, call or spend time alone. Although it hurt, Enjolras was glad for it. Feuilly did not seem to notice the changes between them.

Just that day Enjolras asked Combeferre to take over the meeting for him, even if he was there. He wanted to relax a little. He wanted to give a chance to his friends, their opinions, their passion for the moment. He wanted to keep his mind engaged in their voices, dreams and visions. But when he arrived at the Musain café, they all sat ať one table around Feuilly who frown. As soon as Grantaire noticed that Enjolras had arrived, he just waved at him and signaled him to go to the bar. "What it's happening?" He asked worriedly as he stepped closer. Grantaire stopped him and shook his head.

"Nothing important for you," Grantaire said quietly, trying to drag him to the bar. That seemed strange to Enjolras. "Nothing for—"

"Enjolras, please, could you help us out here a little bit?" Grantaire took a deep breath and exhaled defeated. Enjolras tried to read Grantaire's grimace, trying to figure out what was bothering him, but he couldn't. He wasn't as good at this as the brunette.

Enjolras walked over to a group of friends sitting around Feuilly, who smiled exhaustedly at him. "Tell us your opinion, please," Joly said importantly. "Feuilly has a problem and doesn't know what to do with it." 

"I don't think that's a problem," Bahorel said.

"I think it's a big problem," Joly protested.

"Tell me what's going on?" Enjolras asked urgently. He didn't like it when he was confused.

"Not a problem," Feuilly agreed with Bahorel, but immediately looked at Joly. "But I agree it's a bit of a dilemma." Joly nodded in satisfaction. “A neighbor has heated us. I've been trying to repair our stupid apartment for two days. But coatings are expensive, old plaster, walls leaking. Where I fix something, it breaks up again. Where I wipe, there is a puddle again. It still smells so strange there.” Feuilly ran a hand over his tired face. It seemed he hadn't slept for a few days. “Everything costs money. I told the company if they could give me a deposit, but instead my boss offered me to go on a business trip. To Spain. For two months. The money will be beautiful, I would be stupid if I did not accept it. But ... but I can't leave Patricia here. I'd take her with me, but I can't. She has a high-risk pregnancy, she must rest, she must not be stressed. Any travel makes her sick. She is not allowed on a plane and I cannot imagine driving her across France to Spain by car. It would be hell for both of us. Besides, I wouldn't really be with her. She would be alone. But it will still be if I leave. We need money, but I also need to be with her. Mainly I need to finish the apartment. But it won't work without money either, and because of how old the house is, it will take a long time and she just can't be in it. It's — ahh. ”Feuilly sighed aloud, hiding behind his hands. “Excuse me, boys. I don't want to burden you with such stupidity. ”

"These are definitely not stupid," Jehan said immediately. "You can tell us when something is wrong." 

"We'll be happy to help, everyone," Combeferre said, looking at the others who began to nod. "If you need money—" 

“Guys not, you're nice, but no. You've helped me enough." He looked at them and smiled. But it was obvious that the smile was sad 

"She can stay with me."

Everyone looked at Enjolras. Feuilly opened his mouth and said, "Sorry?"

"Patricia, she can stay with me," Enjolras said immediately, trying not to notice the nasty pressure on his chest. He hadn't felt it for almost a week. Why did it have to come back? Why? “Before your apartment is repaired. As you say, it will last and the idea that a pregnant woman lives in such an apartment is probably not the best. And you can go on that business trip. She'll be with me, so you know I'll watch her. If anything happens, I'll write to you, call or something. ”

"That's a good idea!" Bahorel smiled broadly.

"Then why didn't you offer such a thing?" Feuilly asked almost offensively. Bahorel frowned at him a little. "Sorry," Feuilly said immediately, trying to smile again. “I can't, Enjolras. You've done enough for me. Only in the last six months so much that I will blame myself for the rest of my life. ”

"No, please," Enjolras said immediately. “Bahorel lives with his band. Do you really want your wife to be in an apartment with six guys and your child Daily hearing death metal songs? ”

"It's an underrated music style," Bahorel said, his mouth pouting.

"Marius and Courfeyrac live together in a dormitory, and unless I'm wrong, no one else can live there except the students."

"Unfortunately," they said the same.

“Combeferre is the same. And his roommate is worse than anything. ”

“Would you believe he asked me last time to bring a goat to our room? Real, big goat? As a pet?" To show how absurd he felt, he pulled his glasses closer to the root of his nose. "Still better than last week when he persuaded me to buy a parrot." 

“When we are at this topic, you know how Jehan loves his animals. I think Patricia wouldn't be happy with all those snakes, spiders and lizards. ”

"But I already have turtles," Jehan said weakly.

"Joly and Bossuet live with Musichetta in such a small apartment."

"It would be an interesting experience, yes," Bossuet said, but Joly looked at Feuilly almost apologetically and said: "But I don't really know how fourth people can live there. Plus, our cats... they're like kids to us, but I don't want to risk anything. Toxoplasmosis is no fun. ”

" It's a bullshit," Bahorel protested.

Joly had already raised his finger to instruct him about the disease, but Enjolras interrupted immediately: "This is not important now." Enjolras looked to his left side. Grantaire was a standing little away. His face was neutral. “And Grantaire lives in a miniature apartment, he can hardly fit into it. Plus, you can smell all the colors from his constantly painting. Not to mention cigarettes and alcohol." Grantaire was the only one to say anything. "So I offer myself."

“It doesn't sound bad at all. What do you think? ”Bossuet asked, looking at Feuilly. He was silent for some time, his eyes flicking between all his friends.

"Do you mind?" Feuilly finally asked.

Enjolras just shook his head. "If yes, I wouldn't even offer it to you."

"I can't ask you this..." he whispered rather to himself, but he could tell from his voice that he's thankful.

"But you can." He looked at the whole group. "Solved. Can we begin? ”With that, everyone gradually settled into their typical places, and in the meantime Combeferre prepared papers on which he had notes on topics he would like to discuss.

Before everyone could sit down and tell the waitress their last orders, Enjolras felt Grantaire take his shoulder. He looked at him. He still had the neutral expression. Enjolras made the look nervous. "You know it's a step back, right?" He asked seriously.

Enjolras shook his shoulder a little, forcing Grantaire to release him. "No," he said firmly.

"If you think," Grantaire said, heading for the bar, unlike the others. He ordered two shots of whiskey. Enjolras swallowed the desire to come to bar and get drunk with him.

(—And it still hurt.)

  * ● ● ● ● ● ●



(It shouldn't hurt—)

Patricia came out of the car, slipped her purse over her shoulder and smiled pleasantly when she saw Enjolras. Enjolras tried to smile at her. "Hi," she greeted him in her sweet voice and walked up to him. She was already opening her arms to embrace him before she remembered that everyone had told her how much Enjolras hated touching other people. She quickly put her hands back to her body and held out her hand. Enjolras squeezed it and greeted her with a nod. "Thank you very much again, it will help us a lot." Enjolras nodded again, waiting for Feuilly to open the trunk of the car, where several boxes were waiting for them. "Let me help," she said right away, but her husband appeared beside her, wrapped his arms around her waist, put his hands on her tummy, and frowned hard at her.

“Don't even think of it,“ he said almost in profesional voice.“You'll take a nice lift upstairs, make tea, sit on the couch, and wait until we're done. Agreed?"

"Not really," she protested. "I want help." 

"By giving birth here?" Feuilly asked, stroking her bulging belly. 

"Don't scare me," she said a little more gently. "We have two more months to the date."

“Two months. And I'll be gone. I don't know if I can do it anyway," Feuilly said in a low voice. “I'll worry about you. I'm afraid even now. ”

"I will be with Enjolras and you know that nothing bad can ever happen when I'm with him." As soon as he heard his name, Enjolras looked at the couple standing beside him. He tried to ignore them. Their sweet talk and touch just raised his stomach.

He was used to burning on his chest and wanting to cry. Jealousy. 

But now his stomach was rising and he clenched his fists. Annoyance.

"Of course," Enjolras said, sensing they were expecting a reaction. "Can we begin? It's quite cold." Three inches of fresh snow had already fallen outside. 

So they started. Patricia really took the elevator to the fourth floor, and Enjolras poured her hot, black tea, which he had made beforehand, seated her on his couch, and let her watch TV. Within twenty minutes, Feuilly and Enjolras carried fifteen boxes into his apartment. It was all things from their apartment that they wanted to save from water and reconstruction. Only four boxes belonged to Patricia. Enjolras put them in his room.

When they were done, Enjolras and Feuilly had coffee and turned on the news. They discussed politicis for a while until Feuilly decided it was time to go. Together with his colleagues from work, he took a bus to Barcelona already at four in the morning. He said good-bye to Patricia between the front doors. Enjolras was glad he didn't have to hear what they were saying, he didn't watch their kisses, he didn't know how much they touched.

Enjolras just finished his coffee when Patricia returned to the living room. She rubbed her hands nervously, smiled and said, "Can I unpack my things?"

"Sure," Enjolras said, pointing toward his bedroom. Patricia blinked in confusion. “I live alone, so I only have one bedroom. The boxes are already there. Do you have something heavy in them? Something you need help with?“

"No," she shook her head, but still didn't go to the bedroom. She looked nervous.

"Oh, of course," Enjolras said suddenly more loudly than he intended. His laugh a little eased the tension between them. "I won't sleep with you." Patricia blushed, and Enjolras immediately began to shake his head frantically. "I didn‘t mean it this way. Well, yes, but differently. We'll sleep together. I mean— ”

"It's strange to see you nervous," said Patricia, smiling and moving closer to Enjolras. He ran his hand through his hair and he looked at the floor. “It‘s also strange situation for me, Enjolras. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm grateful to you and I should be the one who is nervous. ”

Enjolras took a deep breath and began again: “My bedroom it‘s yours now. I cleaned the closets, you can put what you need in them. Only the school and club stuff remained in my desk. I have some letters and private stuff there. Do you mind if you don't look there? I have nowhere to put here and I know, I would hide it and I couldn‘t find it anymore. This is better for me. ”

"Sure, you don't have to worry about finding your love letters," Patricia tried to make a joke, but Enjolras just raised one eyebrow and went on: “My stuff are gone. The sheets are washed, but if you want to sleep in your own, I won't be angry.“

"And you'll be gone?" She asked, a little surprised. She didn't like the idea of being alone in a foreign apartment for the next two months.

"No. I promised Feuilly I’ll take care of you. I‘ll sleep in the living room on the couch.“ Patricia had already inhaled that she would say something, but Enjolras interrupted her: “I have a comfortable couch, don’t worry. Two months will be nothing for me. I get up early in the morning, so you can go to the living room and the kitchen at any time, and you don't have to worry about disturbing me.“ With that he opened the fridge and take the frozen chicken. “I'll make dinner. I can't cook much, but I can cut the chicken and cook potatoes. Will it be enough? ”

“Of course,“ she said with a smile.

“So you can unpack for now, I'll prepare it dinner and call you when it’s ready.“ With that, he started to cook. Patricia stood there for a minute, watching him preparing pots and ingredients, then went to his bedroom. When Enjolras called her for dinner in an hour, she was done. They sat down at the small table in the kitchen, they wished  _ bon apétite _ each other and ate quietly. Sometimes they looked at each other, but immediately looked away at their plates. It was strange. For both of them. They felt as if the space around them was choking. After dinner, they wished good night, Patricia went to his —  _ already her _ — bedroom, and Enjolras lay down on the couch. He was looking at the ceiling and thinking.

Two months. He can do it.

_ (—And it still hurt.) _

  * _● ● ● ● ● ●_



_ (It shouldn't hurt—) _

Grantaire walked over to the table where he placed two glasses of orange juice. "So, how's it going?" He asked with a mischievous smile.

Enjolras sat across from him, frowning, massaging his shoulder and neck. "Are you mocking me?"

"I? What do you think of me?“ Grantaire laughed. “You look so relaxed.“

"Grantaire," Enjolras said in a warning voice, and Grantaire laughed again. After a while Enjolras joined him, but immediately he whined in pain. His neck and his right part of his body ached tremendously.

“Do you need a massage?“ Grantaire bit his tongue. Before Enjolras could say he wouldn't mind, Grantaire continued, “Sorry, stupid idea. So, tell me."

Enjolras just sighed. Where was he supposed to start?

After the first night, he realized his couch wasn't that comfortable. His feathers were stinging constantly in his back, he had his head in an unnatural position, his legs were too long. He slept only for two hours. He was sleepy, annoyed and his back ached. He was put on his feet by a strong, black coffee. Patricia made him breakfast, quietly told him her dream, and before he left for school, she gave him a green-blue, knitted scarf.  _ “I made it overnight, I couldn't sleep much. I hope you like it.”  _ He put it in his backpack and forgot about it completely. He returned home around eight o'clock in the evening. Patricia warmed up his dinner and asked him, “Could you tell me when you usually go home? When I live with you, I would like to cook at least for you. Feuilly always said me you were forgetting about it everytime. Now that I don't have much to do, I'd be happy to help you at least like this. I don't know if you noticed, but since we're started dating, Feuilly put some weight.”Enjolras didn't answer her.

The first two weeks were hard. Enjolras felt that Patricia was everywhere. He found wool balls, sewing needles of all sizes, pieces of fabric and thread around the apartment. She had always forgotten to take a tray under her glass. Her shoes were everywhere and her jackets lays on the floor all the time. She was awkward and always dropped her glasses. She smashed a few. And always — indeed always — she cried. Everything - news on TV, another broken mug, badly stitched stitch on new clothes – made her cry. She always laughed, wiping her tears, saying, "The hormones!" Enjolras hated his crying, let alone someone else.

But then Enjolras began to perceive other things. Like the fact that whenever he came home he had a meal ready. Patricia cooked perfectly. He had the feeling that he had gained at least three pounds from the moment he was living with her. She made every meal a gourmet experience. Whenever he was having a hard time, Patricia smuggled his favorite biscuit into his backpack, saying "Good luck." She left political programs on on TV, though she wasn't interested in them. She only asked for help when she needed it. Every time she cooked, sewed, bathed or worked, she sang songs from fairy tales. She had a beautiful voice. Enjolras slept for the first time in three weeks when he heard Patricia washing up and humming the ballad “ _ God help the Outcasts.“  _ From Disney version of “ _ The Hunchback of Notre Dame“ _ .

"I'm getting used to it," Enjolras finally assessed their home situation and finished his drink. He and Grantaire paid and left Corinth. It was snowing outside. They both buttoned their coats to their necks and looked down the lighted street. "Can I have a question?" Enjolras asked as he tied a scarf around his neck that Patricia had knitted.

"Of course."

"Has it ever happened to you that you didn't like someone, but you had absolutely no reason to do that?"

“It wasn't without reason. I think you have a reason why you don't like Patricia. Eve-"

"Even if you find the reason ridiculous?" Enjolras asked, raising an eyebrow.

"On the contrary, I fully understand it," Grantaire said. "I just think you like Patricia." He pointed at the scarf and smiled pleasantly.

"Actually, I’m confused too," the blond man admitted, digging his nose into the scarf. It smelled of lilies, coconut milk and honey. Just like Patricia. The scent had been calming. It reminded him of the scent of the bath that his mother had prepared when he was a child. “I know I didn't like her. At the beginning, I even hoped she would break up with Feuilly and I would never see her again. It sounds selfish. I know,“ he said, putting his hands in his pockets. It was freezing. “Today I understand how stupid it was. Hoping for misfortune for a friend. But-"

"I totally understand you. I was lucky to never seen my chosen one with anyone else. I guess I'd kill myself.“

"Your crush sounds worse and worse with every another story."

Grantaire smiled sweetly and shook his head. “No, I think you would love him. You would understand. ”

“Really?“ Enjolras asked suspiciously.

“I'm absolutely sure of that. But back to Patricia. Do you know why you didn't like her? ”

“Grantaire, I'm new to relationships, but I know it was because of Feuilly. It seems just more absurd to me. Because I should wish luck to someone I really love from the heart, right? ”

"Jealousy is a bitch."

"Well, yeah," Enjolras admitted. “But the more I am with Patricia… the more I realize she's really, really great. I wish she had someone like Feuilly. Because I know he'll take care of her. That no one would use her goodness.“ Grantaire smiled. He saw Enjolras's gaze softening and his cheeks turned to pink shade. It almost touched him. “I'm actually glad they're together now. Because I know they both deserve it. And both are good to each other. ”

“Just a little longer, and you'll be able to join Jehan with writing romantic poems."

"Oh, please, no," Enjolras laughed and looked at Grantaire, who returned his smile. "But it is true that the more I am with her, the more I — I don't even know what to call it."

"Happy?"

"No," Enjolras said seriously. “Rather, I don't go back to the apartment to see a good friend's wife or a friend. But a family member. It scares me a little, ”Enjolras admitted.

"It's good to feel that good sometimes, isn't it?"

"That's it," Enjolras admitted.

"But that doesn't change you being romantic." When Enjolras laughed again in his soft voice, Grantaire felt his heart bumped a little faster. Only rarely he make Enjolras laugh.

“Would you like to come to me this weekend? Patricia unpacked some party games yesterday and said something that she would like to play something again. Someone who would enjoy it as much as she would be useful. ”

"While you quietly suffer in the corner?"

"Exactly."

They both laughed and Grantaire just nodded. "Sure, Apollo, I will be glad."

“Great. Come to fifth, we dine. ”

"I'll be there, Captain." Grantaire saluted, and Enjolras just rolled his eyes.

“Come in time. Good night, Grantaire. ”

“Good, Apollo. And greet Patricia from me. ”

“I will. And Grantaire? ”

"Yes?"

"When did we talk about who we don't like, who is for you?"

Grantaire was silent for a moment. He seemed to be thinking if he should tell Enjolras at all. Then he just snorted and said softly, "You don't know him." Enjolras just nodded, said goodbye again, and walked toward the bus stop. When Enjolras' figure disappear around the corner, Grantaire said quietly, "Feuilly."

_ (—And it still hurt.) _

  * _● ● ● ● ● ●_



_ (It shouldn't hurt—)  _

"That was really the best food I've ever eaten!"

"It’s just normal food," she laughed, blushing.

“Like from God's table! Banquet over banquets. ”

"Grantaire, come on."

"I would ask God to eat with my eyes and not leave a bite!"

"I said he‘s theatrical," Enjolras said, leaning back in his chair. "But he's right, it was really great."

"I am so glad you liked it," Patricia said sincerely and smiled pleasantly at both of them. “Would you like dessert? I made a Tiramisu.“

"Why didn't meet you before Feuilly? Why, God, why? ”

Enjolras had one of the best evenings. The conversation went on, they had fun, eated more of Patricia’s meals and laughed at nothing. At eleven, Grantaire said good-bye, kissed Patricia four times on her cheeks, and began to provoke Enjolras between the doors about the current situation in parliament. When Enjolras began to turn red in his ears and cheeks, a sign of holding on to not start screaming and beginning a heated discussion; Grantaire stuck his tongue at him and ran away. Enjolras just rolled his eyes on his childlike behavior and went inside. He and Patricia eat rest of the Tiramisu. “I really enjoyed tonight. Grantaire is fun. I wonder what it would look like if we played the Monopoly together.“ Only now Enjolras realized they had forgotten about the games.

So at least he had a reason to invite Grantaire again. Only when he mentioned that Patricia would cook Spanish cuisine, he was almost running to them. Patricia was enthralled by his enthusiasm. Enjolras realized that he spends most of his time looking at them. They talked about sitcoms, art, cooking, raising children and the future. But Enjolras didn't feel pushed away. On the contrary, he found that he could listen every word with big smile on his face, see every spark of enthusiasm in their eyes, and laugh with their jokes. He hadn‘t experienced such good feeling since Feuilly first brought Patricia to them. When he remembered him, he realized he hadn't contacted him for several days. A little frightened, he told Patricia when she went to bed, but she just smiled pleasantly at him. “We write or call each other every day. He knows everything's all right. I especially praised how beautiful you take care of me. And how wonderful you and Grantaire are to me.“

It has been a month since they lived together in the same aparment. They were just eating scrambled eggs with grilled vegetables, drinking tea and enjoying the rising sun, when Patricia broke the silence between them. “You and Grantaire are friends, right?“ Enjolras looked at her. Patricia smiled pleasantly at him and chewed on the last pieces of breakfast. He just nodded. “Nice,“ she said rather to herself, shoving her fork into the remnants of the plate a few times. “I remember how cold you were to each other before. Almost distant. It's nice to see what time can do. ”

"Five years is a long time to get to know someone and understand that he isn‘t a bad person really."

She smiled even more. "Five years is a long time for a lot of things.“

Enjolras looked at her and tried to figure out what she wanted to tell him. "What do you mean?"

"You know I didn't like Feuilly at first?"

Enjolras frowned at her. He hadn't thinked about the redhead for a long time. Right from the start, however, he knew he liked him. He spoke honestly and was always in some nice clothing. "Really?" He asked, a little surprised. "Why?" He didn't know if it was good to ask.

“He was a bit arrogant. Don't look at me like that, ”she laughed as she noticed Enjolras's disapproving expression. “You know him thanks to a political club where you have exactly the same view of things. He had no reason to discuss with you, to oppose you, to pursue his own ideas. Maybe after some time. You have charisma and natural authority. Everyone wants to make a good first impression on you. I wasn't different.“ That made Enjolras a little startled. When he remembered how distant he had been to Patricia from the beginning - refusing her embraces, refusing her homemade cookies, he didn't wanted to fix his shirt as it unraveled under his armpit. They were little things. But it was Patricia‘s way of showing her affection. “But he recognized me in the corridor of the orphanage house. He was seventeen and I was fourteen. I was still a child. And he? Pretty handsome guy that everyone spoke of in good terms. Except that puberty beat him more than it did with me. He didn't like little girls like me. He found us annoying. There was one girl named Adriana, who loved when Feuilly read her fairy tales. He used to go to girly rooms every night to read fairy tales, but as soon as he got into puberty, he refused all of us. We missed him a lot. So I ran after him like a lost puppy and tried to persuade him to go and read another fairytale to Adriana. Every night. At first, he just avoided me. But when he could not escape from me, he literally began to drive me away _. I have no time. Ask someone else. Go away _ .” The last sentence surprised Enjolras. He had known Feuilly long enough, but he had never heard any of these sentences from him. He couldn't even imagine him being able to say that. To girl. “Actually, I didn't even like him so much. And today? He is my husband and in a month, we will be three thanks to our love.“ She tenderly stroked the convex belly. Even though she had a deadline of three weeks, she still looked great. She wasn't swollen, only ten pounds up. Her belly was so small that Enjolras sometimes wondered if the baby would fit in there. "I just wanted to say that the right ones aren‘t always the ones we admire from the beginning." Enjolras looked into her face and noticed how soft she was staring at him. “Love is a complex thing. Sometimes it confuse us. We love those who aren‘t judging us. Because they have something we love. Just a little detail in their behavior, expression or personality that we could admire for years. But years aren‘t a lifetime. Over time, it turns out that maybe the little detail, that little of that personality, is simply not enough for us. In the better case, we tolerate everything else. But sometimes, in worse case, we can't bear it, it bothers us, we start to hate it. Suddenly it's gone. Because you will find that it was not love but merely delusion. The illusion falls. You'll find that you should have looked for someone else all this time. And you're lucky if he doesn't have anyone yet, and still blindly hopes you will understand once that his friendship has been the true love you've been looking for so much all along.“ She than rose from her seat with empty plates in her hands and leave Enjolras by himself.

Enjolras knew he wasn't one of the most emphatic people. But he wasn't stupid. Perhaps he didn‘t understand every detail of the word, didn‘t examine the tone of peoples voice, nor did he concentrate on every movement of the facial muscles. But he understood when someone was trying to explain something to him. Enjolras can’t sleep because of her words.

At the one in the morning he picked up the phone and wrote a message to Grantaire.

_ Patria has never seen Frozen. _

The answer came in five seconds.

_ How is that possible?! We must fix it! _

Enjolras replied immediately.

_ My apartment, Saturday, eight in the evening? _

_ Got it! ;) _

Grantaire, as always, didn‘t disappoint. Enjolras smiled, turned the phone off and finally fell asleep. He hoped that maybe, maybe, he understood her words correctly.

_ (—And…) _

  * _● ● ● ● ● ●_



_ (It shouldn't hurt—) _

"You shouldn't do this to a pregnant woman!" Patricia screamed and looked at the two boys sitting in living room. She had a red nose, wet eyes, and wiped her wet cheeks.

Grantaire laughed and handed her another handkerchief. “It wasn’t so sad.“ Grantaire looked at Enjolras. "Right, Apollo?" Enjolras remained silent. "Apollo?" Enjolras sat on the ground, his legs clenched tightly to his chest and his mouth hidden behind his knees.

Before Patricia could touch his shoulder and ask if everything was all right, Enjolras laid his chin on his knees and blinked several times. "They loved each other all the time," he whispered so softly that they barely heard. A couple of tears streamed down Patricia and Grantaire laughed again.

"Did you see it for the first time too?" Patricia asked him when she finally stopped crying.

"He won't support a corrupt company by watching their movies." Enjolras glared at Grantaire. "Worse than that, he'll never admit, that their most popular fairy tale made him cry like a little girl." Grantaire was immediately silenced by the pillow that Enjolras had thrown at him.

The evening passed calmly. Patricia prepared ice cream cups for all and they played cards. Grantaire regretted telling them his tricks. He was a cheating master, but when two players joined him, winning was a little harder. "If we played for money, I would be homeless right now,“ Grantaire whispered as he laid the cards on the table, and Enjolras and Patricia slapped their hands in a friendly manner. Grantaire didn‘t comment their action and just smiled. It was nice to see them both having fun. Long ago, the nervousness and awkwardness that had been constantly hanging between them, was gone. Enjolras rose after a moment to refill his coffee. He returned to the table with a glass of water and an orange. "You mustn‘t forget the vitamins," he said to Patricia, who took the fruit from him. Grantaire's smile widened even more.

"Damn, it's been hours!" Grantaire cried suddenly, jumping to his feet. "I have to go.“ He ran to the hall where he started to put on his shoes quickly.

"Wait," said Enjolras, who quickly got up from the table and ran to Grantaire. "You don't have to go."

“I must, Apollo. Believe me, it’s pretty long way to my aparment from here, so I need to také the last bus or I’ll be at home right after the dawn.“ With that he reached for the jacket that Enjolras had taken from him. Grantaire looked at him questioningly.

"Stay," he said gently, squeezing the jacket in his hands. Grantaire looked at him for a moment and laughed quickly. He put his hands in his pockets and stared into the ground. While they were spending time together, Enjolras knew he was doing it when he felt nervous. "I'm serious. Unless you don't mind sleeping in the living room. With me."

Grantaire looked at him and felt his cheeks turn red. "Am I supposed to sleep with you?" Enjolras shivered and Grantaire realized what he said. Confused, he began to wave his hands. “Jesus, God, no, shit. I did not mean it this way. Not like sleeping together. Like the two of us. Somehow, whatever, like, differently. Than sleep. Like, otherwise, you know what I mean? Haha, my God… ”

"I understand," Enjolras laughed, trying to figure out why he was feeling warm wave in his stomach when he saw Grantaire's red cheeks. “You can sleep on the couch. I'll sleep on a chair. ”

"Wait, I can't do that to you."

"Grantaire," Enjolras said more seriously. "I'm serious. It's snowing anyway. Before you came to a bus stop, you would have missed it. And how would you get home then? On foot? You would freeze and get sick. Stay.“

Grantaire was not long persuaded. "Good."

And so, after a month and a half after he had finally got used to the couch, Enjolras settled on an even smaller seat. He sat down, curled up, swung his legs over the back, and supported his head with the softest pillow he found. Grantaire was still trying to protest that he would sleep peacefully on the ground, but then Enjolras had pushed him into the freshly coated duvets. When Grantaire smelled their sweet, strawberry smell and felt the softness he had last felt in his childhood when he slept with his grandmother, he didn‘t protest. As soon as he lay down, he fell asleep and began to snore quietly. The monotonous sound put Enjolras slowly to sleep.

At three in the morning, he woke up thank to sound of soft moan. He tried to catch the last shards of his dream for a moment, but when he heard the moan again, he opened his eyes. The room was dark. Through the window a little light came into the room, illuminating the table and the couch. Grantaire lay with one foot on the ground, the other on the back. He had one hand over his stomach, the other slipping from his couch. His head was leaning back, his mouth open, but he was no longer snoring. Enjolras frowned a little, trying to figure out what disturbed his dreams when the sound came again. He turned his head toward the corridor. It was only now that he could hear the sounds of running water. Patricia had sore back last days and only a hot bath helped her in pain. It was normal for her to wake up several times a night and take short shower. Enjolras closed his eyes again and tried to sleep.

He could only sleep for a few minutes when he felt something touch his hand. He jumped at once and stared at the room in terror. He turned his head to the right. Patricia was kneeling beside him, clutching his hand, the other trying to wipe the tears that ran down her face.

Enjolras was awake immediately. "Are you okay? Is something wrong?“ Patricia just shook her head and moaned again. A few more tears streamed down her face, and she let out a painful groan from her mouth as he had heard before. "Does anything hurt?" Patricia just nodded. Before she could say anything, she began to breathe quickly, her entire body taut, her hand touched her belly and the other into his hand. She began to cry loudly. Enjolras felt his heart pound.

"What's going on?" Grantaire asked quietly. He stretched out on the couch and rubbed his eyes. He didn't see much. "What?" He asked as he noticed how terrified Enjolras looked. It was only then that he noticed Patricia, who was breathing deeply. "Patricia?"

"I think I’m giving a birth," she whispered weakly. Enjolras immediately stood up and turned on the light in the living room. Patricia wore her bathrobe, her hair was wet, she was shaking. “My back ached. So I thought— ”She yelped again painfully, clutching her belly. By then Grantaire had sat down on the couch, watching Patricia as frightened as Enjolras. “—I thought it was as always. Bath has always helped me. But— ”She cried again. Enjolras quickly walked over to her and took her by her shoulders. He was terrified of how much she was shaking. She was pale, her eyes were swollen, her lips cracked. Grantaire helped Enjolras bring Patricia to the couch where she sat. "No, like that," she began to squeal, hunching herself into a ball. "It hurts like that," she began to cry again.

Enjolras knelt by the couch and stroked Patricia's hair. He reached for his mobile and threw it at Grantaire. "Call an ambulance."

"Fuck," Grantaire said, calling. When we heard the clink, the dispatcher wasn't even able to say  _ hello _ and Grantaire immediately said, "Okay, we have a birth here. Can you send us an ambulance here, please?“ He listened to the female voice on the other side, said the address of Enjolras' apartment, then looked at Patricia. He asked, "It’s your water gone?"

"I don't know," she whispered in tears.

"She said she doesn't know," Grantaire repeated. Silence again. "Well, how is that possible they ask?"

"God, give it aloud," Enjolras said imperiously, and Grantaire listened immediately. "Good evening," Enjolras said immediately into space. “The wife of a friend is giving birth. She had back pain, so she took a bath. It didn't help, and now she's crouching in pain. That's all we know. ”

" _ Good evening _ ," a pretty old woman's voice greeted them from his cell phone. " _ Is the lady conscious and can she hear me? _ "

"Yes," Enjolras said, stroking Patricia's face to wipe away few of her tears. “She’s just in a lot of pain and can't talk much. She cries a lot.“

“ _ Oh, sweetheart, that'll be fine. I need you to concentrate and answer some questions. It’s that possible _ ?“

"Questions? Shouldn't you be fucking sprinting here and take care of it?“

The lady on the other hand replied to Grantaire with complete calm: “ _ It is normal to arrive at your apartment in fifteen minutes. But in this weather, anything can happen on the road and I have to make sure the lady is fine.“  _ Grantaire bit his tongue. Before he could apologize, the lady continued _ , "When you were bathing, did you feel you wanted a lot of toilet? _ "

Patricia nodded. "She nooded her head," Enjolras said.

" _ And did you feel like you were peeing _ ?"

"Yes," she whispered, exhausted.

_ “So the water leaked out, dear. You are already giving birth to us.“  _ The lady said in such a voice that it was clear to everyone that she was smiling. " _ First birth?" _

"Yes — aah!" She cried out suddenly, curled up more and squeezed Enjolras's hand. He jumped over the force of her grip and barely stood on his feet. Grantaire took a step closer to them and knelt beside Enjolras. He had no idea what to do, but he knew he must be close to them.

" _ That was a contraction, dear _ ," the lady said through the cellphone. " _ It seems to me that you already had one during our brief call." _

"Yes," she whispered again, trying to smile at Enjolras, who began wiping her sweaty forehead with the long sleeve of his shirt; and Grantaire, who stroked her hand.

" _ How long does the pain last?" _

"About half an hour…"

“ _ And the contractions are over, in what time span? Could you guys guess that? _ ”

Enjolras looked at his watch. "About every two to three minutes."

" _ That's what I thought _ ," the lady said rather to herself, it was possible to hear something tapping into the computer and talking to someone in the room. Enjolras didn't like the silence. " _ Dear, do you have a normal or high-risk pregnancy? _ "

"Risky," Enjolras replied immediately. That was one of the reasons he was paying so much attention to Patricia.

Patricia screamed again, gripping Grantaire's hand, and Enjolras moved closer to her body. “ _ You're breathing badly. You will hurt yourself and your baby in this way, _ “ the Lady told them. There was a moment of silence again. " _ Do you have a small tummy _ ?"

"How did you know?" Grantaire asked in surprise.

" _ Experience, sir _ ," the Lady told him. “ _ Dear, does it force you to push?“ _

Patricia was breathing deeply for a moment, and then she said softly, "Yes."

" _ I thought it. Listen up. We have a quick birth here _ . ”

“What?“ Grantaire asked in surprise. He hadn't heard it in his life.

"No…" she whispered in exhaustion and fresh tears began to run down her cheeks.

"According to her reaction, is that something wrong?" Enjolras asked with maximum concentration.

“ _ It's nothing terrible. It's just a small complication in an otherwise good birth _ .“ Everyone knew the Lady was just trying to calm them down. They were grateful for that. “ _ Gentlemen, our mother here gives birth faster than it’s healthy. This means that a baby can be born every minute. I need you to keep your head cool and help the lady as much as possible. I'll tell you what to do. Step by step, you don't have to worry. _ ”

"Wait, wait, wait," Grantaire said immediately, looking at the cell phone as if he had seen the Lady. “You want to tell us that we will be helping her giving a birth? Like, look into Patriacia‘s vagina and pull the baby out of it? ”Enjolras paled a little.

" _ You got it right _ ," the Lady told him again, calm.

"I won't look into anyone's crotch," they said at once. Before the lady could rebuke them, Patricia curled up again and experienced a strong contraction that had confused her head. She began to look up at the ceiling, her hands falling from the couch. "Patricia?" Enjolras asked cautiously.

" _ Is there something wrong _ ?"

"I — I don't know," Enjolras said, patting Patricia's cheek a few times. "She looks at me, blinks, but her body seems to be ... like a supple?"

"Fainted?" Grantaire asked.

“ _ She's only very weak. Gentlemen, please listen to me. We can’t do anything wrong here. Both the mother and the child may lose their lives. If you listen to me, do everything I tell you, everything will be fine and doctors will get to you in time. The ambulance is on way. Do you understand me?" _

Enjolras looked at Grantaire. They were both terrified. They could look into the eyes of the police, fight, demonstrate, speak aloud all their thoughts, get drunk at night, stand up for their opinion. But give birth to a child of their friend? That was a completely different situation. They both felt lost. "Yes," Enjolras said suddenly. He had to keep his head cool. When he saw Patricia suffering and lying limp, it almost stabbed his heart. If anything happened to her, Feuilly wouldn't forgive him. Hell, he wouldn't forgive himself. "We listen."

“ _ Gentlemen, I need the lady to be as in a quiet room as possible and have enough space around her. Put her on the bed with pillow behind her, in half-sitting possition. _ ”Enjolras just grunted and nudged Grantaire. He just nodded and stood up. He was stronger than Enjolras, he took Patrivia in his arms and carried her to Enjolras's room. Meanwhile, he placed the cell phone on the bedside table next to the bed and sat on the bed.

"Done," he said only.

“ _ Amazing. Dear, you have to spread your legs, shrug them in your knees. As if you were on a gynecological examination. You already know that.“ _ Patricia spread her legs, shaking. Enjolras supported her one leg and frowned.

"Is something wrong?" He asked her.

"It hurts like that," she whispered exhausted, closing her eyes. “It hurts so bad. I don't want it anymore, I don't it want anymore, I don't want— ” She experienced another contract with that. She arched her back, holding her breath, her hands dug into the blanket, and her legs stretched sharply.

“ _ Breathe, dear, breathe. Otherwise it will not work _ . ”

"I can't breathe!" She cried, though she was still exhausted. "It’s not possible. It hurts.“ She began to cry again. Grantaire just stood there, his heart pounding, feeling he might have a heart attack.

" _ You can do it _ ," the Lady tried to maintain a positive spirit. “ _ Gentlemen, you need a sharp tool. Ideally knife, scissors, scalpel. Furthermore, three strips of fabric. Plenty of dry and clean materials such as fabric diapers, blankets, sheets. So that you have as much as possible for the lady, but also the future baby. Everything must be as sterile as possible, otherwise there is a risk of infection. _ ”

Enjolras looked at Grantaire. “I have medicine backpack in bathroom under the sink I got from Joly last Christmas.“ Grantaire snapped his fingers and walked quickly out of the room. Enjolras looked at Patricia. "You have something ready for your baby, don't you?" Patricia nodded and pointed at one of the cabinets. Enjolras walked over to her and take the cloth diapers. There were about fifteen of them. He removed two blankets from the top of one of the closets and left them there in case Patriccia was cold at night. While he was putting together the fabrics, Grantaire returned to his room with a red backpack filled with first aid items. They both returned to the bed, where Patricia was trying to breathe just as the lady had guided her through the mobile.

"Oh, oh, oh," Patrícia began to whimper and heavily defied her hands. She screamed so that Enjolras could hear the neighbors waking up from the upper floor and scold. "Damn," she whispered again. "I’ll shit myself like this."

At that moment Grantaire laughed out loud. Enjolras looked at him in confusion, and Patricia, breathless, sweaty and shaking, just shook her head and frowned at him. "I’m ididot, don’t mind me," Grantaire said seriously, putting his hands in his pockets again.

“ _ Dear, have I heard well? Do you have the urge to stool _ ?“ Patriaia flushed a little more. “ _ It's all right, ma'am, you don't have to be ashamed. I can tell you that what you feel is definitely not stool. It's your baby's head that is already descending enough to oppress the other holes. _ ”

"Do you think-"

" _ Yes, the baby is here." _

"But there is no ambulance!" Grantaire remarked somewhat hysterically.

" _ In that case, you're the doctors now." _ Enjolras and Grantaire looked at each other in terror. “ _ You will give birth with my help. Please sit with the lady on the bed, so that both of them are on one side of the body.“ _

"I played doctor as a kid, but it was definitely another game," Grantaire said, walking around the bed to sit beside Patricia's left side. Patricia stared between her husband's friends. Before she could feel her shyness, another contraction came back, almost impossible to breathe with. Exhausted, she collapsed on the bed and began to cry again.

"No, Patricia," Grantaire said suddenly as calmly as he could. "Don't cry." He began to wipe her tears with the cloth Enjolras had thrown at him.

“ _ One of you will have to check birth routes. Childbirth is too fast. Bleeding could cause much more complications than the birth itself _ . ”

They both looked at each other. "I saw the vagina unlike you," Grantiare said immediately. "But if I see a head going through it, I'll probably thrown up." He looked at Patricia, who almost stabbed him with her eyes. "Sorry, I — I'd rather be silent."

"All right," Enjolras said suddenly, taking a deep breath. "Okay, okay, okay." His hands were shaking, his heart pounding. This was not how he'd imagined spending the last week with Patricia. "All right," he said again, taking a deep breath. "What am I supposed to do?" He turned his head to his cell phone as if expecting the Lady to suddenly appear miraculously in the room and do everything for him.

“ _ Prepare everything you need. Clothes, bath towels, sharp object, blanket in which to wrap the newborn _ .“ Enjolras opened the first aid bag, pulling out blue, rubber gloves, and a blue cloth. He put on his gloves, put on his mask and prepared the necessary things beside his right.

"Ready," Grantaire said instead of Enjolras, who tried to keep calm.

“ _ Uncover the duvet. Prepare the lady in a semi-sitting position to support her knees and push them to her chest. My dear, as soon as you feel another contraction, you bend your head at chest and push hard.”  _ Enjolras's hands were shaking. He carefully uncovered a blanket from Patricia's lap. She was still covered with a bathrobe.

"Can I...?" He asked cautiously, pointing to the large knob holding the robe on. He didn‘t wait for an answer and unbuttoned it. Carefully, almost gently, he uncovered Patricia's body and helped her shrug her legs. Grantaire immediately grabbed her left to help pull her to her chest. Patricia took care of her second. Enjolras sat down a bit and looked down. "She's bleeding," he said breathlessly.

" _ Sheath or torn _ ?"

"I think — I think — I think it's sort of — around.” Enjolras was an adult man. He knew what women had under their skirts. He knew what and how it worked. The idea of nudity and sexuality wasn‘t strange to him. Everyone thought he lived in celibacy. It wasn't true, but he never had any reason to disprove it. But it was the first time he had seen a naked woman in front of him. To all that defenseless. He felt nervous not only because she was Feuilly's wife, but because she was  _ Patricia _ . He clung to her. The idea that something would happen to her and that he might be the one who — He quickly shook his head. He needed to concentrate. "Around," he repeated a little louder.

" _ The periodic is torn _ ," the lady said instantly. " _ Are you right-handed or left-handed _ ?"

"Right-handed."

“ _ Take any sterile fabric into your left hand. Hold your thumb and forefinger in place of the rupture _ .“ Enjolras looked at Patricia, who was lying helpless on her bed, glancing down beside her, where Grantaire was staring at him. Enjolras must not disappoint. He had to help her. " _ Done? _ " Enjolras took a deep breath and did exactly what the lady had told him over the phone. He didn't even want to think about how strange it was to touch her so intimately.

"Oh, God," she whispered, crouching into the position the lady had advised her. More contractions.

" _ Sweetheart, breathe, breathe _ ," the Lady said.

"Hey, hey, look at me," Grantaire said suddenly, patting Patricia's face. She looked at him and blinked a few times to see him through tears. “We'll breathe together, okay? Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.” His voice calmed he. She stared at him, and when another contraction came, they took a deep breath together and Patriacia pushed hard.

At the fourth contract, Enjolras suddenly said, "Should I tell you that I can see the head?" Both Grantaire and Patricia looked at him in surprise. Enjolras looked back and smiled a little, "Because I can see it now."

" _ You're almost done, dear _ ," the Lady said enthusiastically. “ _ When the head is out a little more, grab the fetus at the back of the head and pull it down a little. You will help the birth of the shoulder and then you will have it over. _ ”

“Do you hear? It's almost over, ”Grantaire said, gently stroking her hair.

"Push hard again," Enjolras said, concentrating on not hurting the child.

" _ When you see the entire head, check to see if it has a cord around its head. _ "

"I only see hair."

"Hair?" She smiled despite the pain.

"Black," Enjolras added immediately, and Grantaire laughed at his comment. Enjolras ignored him and listened to the lady who immediately told him, " _ As soon as one arm is out, you grab the newborn baby under the armpit, pull a little up and pull it up at an sharp angle _ .  _ Once the baby is born, don't lift it. Leave the baby between her legs the whole time until the cord beating. You will have to clean his mouth of amniotic fluid. _ ”

Everything suddenly happened so quickly. Patricia, with the help of Grantaire, pushed once more, and suddenly a small creature appeared in Enjolras' hands, purple, pink, slippery, covered in blood and some white fluid. His hands were no longer shaking. He noticed this until he reached for the newborn's mouth and removed the amniotic fluid. Within a second, the baby screamed loudly. " _ You did it right," _ the Lady laughed. “ _ Dry the baby and wrap it in a blanket. Don’t get it cold _ . ”

Enjolras quickly wrapped the baby in one of his favorite, blue, cotton blankets. "It’s a boy," he whispered. He glanced at Patricia, lying exhausted on her back, her eyes closed, breathing deeply. She opened her brown eyes and blinked. "It’s a boy," he said once more, and saw Patricia smile at him. Grantaire hugged her with his free hand around his shoulders and looked at the baby Enjolras carefully held in his hands.

A few seconds later, ambulance pounded at their apartments door. Grantaire went to open them while Enjolras kept his little boy out of his hands, and Lady on the phone congratulated Patria, who was lying exhausted on her back, nodding at all her questions and words. She looked like she wanted to sleep.

"You did a great job," said the doctor as he finished their unfinished work. They carried Patria on a stretcher, holding her boy in her hands, smiling sweetly at him.

_ (-And...) _

  * _● ● ● ● ● ●_



_ (It shouldn't hurt—) _

"I can't even tell you how grateful I am!" Feuilly repeated it a thousand times. He hugged Enjolras with one hand, Grantaire with the other. He pressed them so hard that they both felt that their ribs would be crushed at any moment. Grantaire slapped Feuilly on his back and said something about his envy of changing dirty nappies; while Enjolras leaned back in his arms and stroked his shoulders. Feuilly finally pulled away from them and smiled wide at them. "I'll go. But once more, once again!”And again, for a short moment and with more force, he embraced them and disappeared inside the room where were Patricia and his son.

"Dude," Grantaire whispered, rubbing his shoulder. “Why is Bahorel fiddling with that fucking box, the right work will give you a lot of strength! I almost got some ribs broken.“ Grantaire glanced at Enjolras, who was looking into the room. It was possible to look into the room with a large, glazed glass. Patients had the opportunity to retract the window at any time, but Patricia decided to leave it open for now. Patricia was lying on her bed, holding a small bundle in her arms, smiling. Feuilly walked carefully to her, kissed her forehead, whispered something. According to the tears that began to stream on Patricia's face, he probably confessed his undying love for her. Grantaire smiled to himself. He knew it was almost as important a moment for Enjolras as it was for the two. "Look, if you want to be alone and talk to them—"

“You'll find out that it wasn't love, but just a desollusion. The illusion falls. You'll find that you should have looked for someone else all this time. And you're lucky if he doesn't have anyone yet, and still blindly hopes you will understand once that his friendship has been the true love you've been looking for so much all the time.“

Grantaire blinked. "Wh-"

“That's what Patricia told me yesterday. Before I invited you to me so we could watch Frozen.“ Grantaire was silent. He didn't even want to think about what was now going to Enjolras's head. “You know I'm happy? Really happy. For both of them. Because they are happy. That they are here for themselves. Now that I see them together... a month ago I would have depression thank to this. I would cry on your shoulder again. Like a little boy.“ Enjolras laughed and shook his head. Several restless hair fell into his forehead. “But I don't feel it now.“ With that, he finally looked at Grantaire, who looked at him in silence. "I think I'm on the right track to stop loving him the way he doesn't want to."

Grantair was surprised at the word. "Doesn’t want?"

“He never asked me or forced me to fall in love with him. It was me. My mind, my body, my decision. It was never his fault and I should never have been so cold to Patricia. Now I know. But I needed to get it by myself. Matured a little.“

“Wow, I should have recorded that moment. Apollo realized something he had no idea before. ”

They both laughed. Grantaire wanted to look again at the couple behind the glass when Enjolras suddenly asked him, "Will you go out on date with me?"

Grantaire almost fainted on the spot. "What-what-what, please?"

"Did I say something wrong?"

"What? No, definitely not! But what about all of a sudden? A few drops of blood, hands in the vagina, and you are avaible for some romance? ”

Enjolras just shook his head. “Actually, I've been thinking about it for some time. We both have someone who kind of breaks our hearts.“ With that, he looked into the room where Feuilly was sitting on his bed, holding his son in his arms. Tears of emotion and pride glittered in his eyes. “Last year, I understand myself. Thanks to you, I finally felt like a human. I understood my emotions. I admitted that I too could love and make mistakes. And I had a lot of fun with you in this last year. The session in Corinth, Mrs. Laufet, in Musain. Actually, I liked listening to all stories you told me. And sometimes, indeed sometimes, I had the feeling that it was actually a date. Until we started talking about our misunderstood crushes.“ Grantaire had to lean against the wall otherwise he thought he would faint. “Maybe it's time to let them go. And try it. At least once. If it doesn't work, we'll still be good friends, won't we?“ He looked at Grantaire, his eyes glittering strangely. He had no idea whether from tears or surprises. "And when it works out..." He didn't say, just shrugged and smiled.

"Are you kidding me?" Grantaire asked in surprise, and before Enjolras could interpret this question in bad way, he quickly added, "Sure, very glad. I'd love to go out with you. Date. Oh, God. I haven't had it in four years. My God, it will be embarrassing. ”

Enjolras just laughed and looked back at the couple in the room. "Will you tell me who your secret crush is?"

"Oh," Grantaire began, waving his hand. "A tall blonde who has good ideas sometimes." Enjolras said nothing and just smiled again.

"He's beautiful," Feuilly whispered as he looked at his sleeping son in his arms. 

"I thought you weren't coming," Patrícia said, remembering how, before the pain had begun, she had written to Feuilly that  _ it _ was probably coming. Feuilly was miracly in Paris seven hours after she sent him this message. "I'm glad you're here."

"So I am." He kissed Patricia gently on her mouth, and immediately asked, "Have you thought about the name? I feel that we have absolutely disagreed on the name at home.“ They both laughed at the memory of choosing their baby names. It was their first marital fight.

Patricia looked at the window where Enjolras and Grantaire stood, silently discussing something. They were smiling at each other, Grantaire had a slightly pink face, and Enjolras's eyes glowed beautifully. "I've already thought of something, and I believe you'll agree."

_ (-And...) _

  * _● ● ● ● ● ●_



_ (It shouldn't hurt—) _

"I baptize thee, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost." The priest anointed the little boy's forehead with a finger. He bowed to him and lit a baptismal candle. Patricia took hold of her son even more in her arms, turned to all the friends present, and proudly showed them the son. Feuilly stood beside her, his hand draped over her shoulder, moved and in love.

"That's him," she said as she descended from a small stage from the priest to their friends. "Alexander Christiane Feuilly." Everyone congratulated them and smiled. "Enjolras," she said suddenly, and they all turned to the blond in a gorgeous dark blue suit. "As a godfather, you should hold him first." He wanted to protest that it wasn't necessary, but Grantaire's dragged him by elbow to his friends. "Carefully, support his head, exactly." Patricia gave him a broad smile and leaned against Feuilly's chest.

With his free hand, Enjolras uncovered a blanket from Alexander's face and looked into his huge, brown eyes. Even after only three months, he had thick black hair. His cheeks were slightly pink. He was tiny, thinner for child in his age, but according to doctors he had enough time to catch up with all his peers. "Hi," Enjolras said quietly to the little boy, who grabbed his forefinger with his small hand and pulled him to his face. For a moment he seemed to put it in his mouth, but immediately he lowered his head so that he practically lay on his finger. He held him tight. Enjolras didn't even think of pulling away.

"You look good together," said Grantaire, who wrapped his arms around Enjolras's waist and placed his chin on his shoulder. He looked at the baby boy and said, pouting, "My name is second."

Enjolras laughed at his childish tone. "If you hadn't freaked out that you didn't want to see a  _ certain thing _ coming out of  _ certain places, _ it could have been different."

"Damn," Grantaire whispered, pouting again. Enjolras laughed again, turned his head to him and gently kissed his lips. Grantaire immediately forget about it. "Forgiven," he said as he pulled away from him and looked into each other's eyes.

It had been three months since Grantaire and Enjolras decided to stop being friends. Their date went well. Even when the weather wasn‘t good and it was raining all day, even though the restaurant they wanted to go was closed, and although Grantaire had left a surprise gift for Enjolras at home; They both sat at Enjolras in the apartment on the balcony in the evening, had a glass of wine and laughed all day long. When Grantaire was leaving home, Enjolras offered to accompany him at least to a bus stop. It was snowing all the time and the wind was weak. Enjolras decided to hug Grantaire at the bus stop so he wasn't cold. Grantaire decided not to say anything because he didn‘t want to spoil such an extraordinary moment. When the bus arrived they pulled away and said quietly, "Good night."

After a month of lunchs together, visiting cafes and museums, and strange glances from their friends, Enjolras asked Grantaire while watching movies "Are we a couple?" and Grantaire say with a blush: “Yes.“ They told their friends on next day. Courfeyrac had said something like  _ finally _ , Combeferre was a little more skeptical, but wished them the best, Bossuet handed a hundred-euros bill to Joly's who was laughing. The last one to know was Feuilly, who sent a message to Enjolras at bedtime the night before: “You deserve to be happy.“ Enjolras knew it was the end of his admiration and love for him.

When Feuilly asked Enjolras to be his son's godfather, he couldn‘t hide his enthusiasm. He was in a good mood all day. On his way from school, he picked up Grantaire in his studio, went to a luxury restaurant for lunch, bought him his favorite chocolate, and invited him to his aparment on evening. Unlike the other evenings, they weren't watching TV, but sitting on the couch listening to the radio, drinking wine, eating cheese and talking about everything they thought. "Stay the night," Enjolras asked, and Grantaire didn‘t refused. Neither was nervous. They lay side by side, looking into each other's eyes, talking quietly. It was Enjolras who took the first step and kissed Grantaire. Just gently, almost as if a pair of butterfly wings rubbed against his mouth. "It’s this okay?" The blond asked. Grantaire just smiled and said, "More than fine." He put his hand on his cheek and began to kiss the younger gently. They kissed until the morning when they fell asleep in their arms.

They were together, but did not try to name the feelings. Both were fine. They were happier, more relaxed. Their mutual bond flourished as well as the spring that awoke in the landscape.

"Ouch," Enjolras muttered softly as he felt little Alexander bite him in the link of his finger. "I’m paying attention to you, don’t worry." He swung him in his arms a few times, bit his lip, and smiled at him. “I'm Enjolras. Your godfather. That means that when your mom or dad gets on your nerves, you'll always find support and a free bed to sleep in.“ Grantaire laughed and looked into Enjolras's face. Tears of emotion glittered in his eyes. Grantaire touched his boyfriend even more. “But most of all, I'm here to protect you. No one, and remember, no one will ever hurt you. Not if I'm here. ”

_ (—And finally it didn’t hurt anymore.) _

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr [2WNikiAngel](http://www.2wnikiangel.tumblr.com).


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